Redder Than Blood Whiter Than Bone
by Daniel Affaro
Summary: When The Program crosses the ocean to England, it becomes a television phenomenon. Follow the lives of 40 students chosen for the Game of Death.
1. Chapter 1

―Student List:

Male

#1 Julian Mccans = Luge P05 9mm Pistol  
#2 Ryan Raroof = Saucepan Lid  
#3 Kris Wynnas = Fishing Wire  
#4 Matt Halsmon = N/A  
#5 Jeremy Meek = Telescopic Spring Baton  
#6 Will Burrow = Spoon  
#7 Jermaine Ossen = Hatchet  
#8 Jacob Booth = Markrov Pistol / Customised Holster  
#9 Luke Bryant = Dart Board / Darts  
#10 Rajan Lail = Ingram MAC-10 Machine Pistol  
#11 Will Pryer = Bowie Knife  
#12 Beau Mehtre = Kitchen Knife  
#13 Jonah Goffe = Nunchaku  
#14 Mario Antoniou = Grenades x6  
#15 Tom Staring = Derringer .22 Double High Standard Pistol  
#16 Jordan Jarve = Collar Tracking Device  
#17 Brynn Jones = 38. Colt Anaconda  
#18 Joe Thompson = Sawed-off Remington M31 Pump-Action Shotgun  
#19 Dean Koontz = Colt 45.  
#20 Tom 'Crom' Rawlings = Bolt Action Lee Enfield Rifle

Female

#1 Ellie Pokok = Wooden Pole  
#2 Tasha Tison = Throwing Knife  
#3 Louise Blare = Czechoslovakian CZ 75 Semi-Automatic Pistol  
#4 Beks Don = Kevlar Vest  
#5 Rebecca 'Odd' Odd = Mallet  
#6 Emma Kynde = Uzi 9mm  
#7 Olivia Dike = Machete  
#8 Lor Farren = Walther PPK 7.65mm Pistol  
#9 Alice Woode = Colt Python .357 Magnum Revolver  
#10 Lauren Hatch = Boomerang  
#11 Ademola Atebota = Baseball Bat  
#12 Lianne Otter = Glock 17 Pistol  
#13 Stephanie 'Steph' Night = Tazer  
#14 Anna Tare = Banjo  
#15 Alice Write = Crossbow  
#16 Robin Seere = SIG-Sauer P230 9mm Short Semi-Automatic Pistol  
#17 Gina Jayy = Binoculars  
#18 Alex Hall = Smith & Wesson M59 9mm Semi-Automatic Pistol  
#19 Laura Dennie = Paper Fan  
#20 Danielle Elsmon = Browning Hi-Power 9mm

* * *

Introduction:

An e-mail concerning the latest instalment of 'The Program.'

"Dear Sir,  
I assume that you are aware that the latest instalment of 'The Program', and season finale, is going to take place in a few short weeks. There is, however, a problem. The school that was chosen to provide the contestants is a grammar school consisting primarily of female students. It is for this reason that I propose that, in order to maintain the equality of the event, we obtain male contestants from other educational institutions via impartial lottery.  
Sincerely,  
Program Co-Ordinator 2011, Mr O."

**-GAME START: 40 STUDENTS REMAINING-**


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 1:

As the bright yellow, double-decker, school bus pulled up outside the gate, its wheels almost seemed to screech against the dull black of the tarmac. Glimmering off the shiny, yet obviously dirty, surface of the bus, the sun, partially obscured by the clouds, sighed down in a pale light.

Crawling across the matt grey of the skyline, the clouds began to rumble softly in the distance. A clear indication that it would probably rain in the near future.

Bursting from the doors of the bus, the students (each clad in a yellow and blue tartan kilt and a navy blazer) swarmed towards the school gates before disappearing inside. Picked out among the crowd, several figures stood out. These figures, quite obviously, belonged to the school's sixth form and, as such, did not wear the uniform but, rather, several different arrays of suits. Also, despite the fact that this was, primarily, a school for girls, several male sixth formers could be seen, although they were excessively few in number.

* * *

Sitting down in a low chair, constructed from shiny, almost liquid looking, acrylic, Gina Jayy (Female Student # 17) flitted her eyes around the classroom. The movement of her pupils was slow and lazy, due to the fact that it was early in the morning and she was still (in her opinion) half asleep.

Craning her neck forwards, she placed the palm of her hand against the pale, freckled, skin of her cheek and leaned forwards, supporting her head. Continuing her gaze, through heavy eyelids, she moved her field of vision towards the door that led into the classroom. The pale wooden frame was currently filled with younger students pouring into the room. It always did seem odd to her that registration was taken with members of the younger years.

Suddenly, something assaulted her eyes. It wasn't particularly offensive (although this notion could be disputed, depending on who it was that you talked to), it was just there. Wandering past the door, was a large mass of long curly hair ( Not by itself you idiot, it was attached to a person.).  
Walking slowly, hands stuffed into the pockets of his suit trousers, in a nonchalant manner that almost seemed to scream lazy, the owner of the hair didn't even bother to look around himself. He remained facing directly in front of himself as he maintained his slow pace and eventually moved out of Gina's sight.

He aggravated her. Not in an offensive kind of way. He hung out with her and her friends every day, so it wasn't like she was incapable of tolerating him. Its just that his laid back attitude annoyed her. (God, now it sounds like she was being harsh.) Basically it was a little thing that popped up from time to time that she didn't like.

He was Will Pryer (Male Student #11)

* * *

Male Student #1, Julian Mccans was, too, sitting in a similar acrylic seat. Leaning even further forwards, he bowed his head and peered through his thick-lensed glasses. Continuing to squint, he made several sharp movements with the pencil in his hand, thereby finishing the shading of the sketch that he was working on.

Raising his head, he stared down at his work. It was a large, perfectly drawn, forest landscape… with a smouldering plane crash in the middle.

"S'up Julian," came a lazily toned voice from behind him.

Turning his head around, so that he was now looking over his shoulder, Julian's face stretched into a wide, flat, smile. Humming for a brief instant, as if he were thinking about what to say, he replied slowly: "Hey Will."

"Looking good, mate," Will said, collapsing into a chair on the opposite side of the table and throwing his bag to the floor as he commented on the sketch.

"Thanks," Julian said, slowly. "It took me about 2 days…"

"That 'A' in art is in the bag then," Will smirked, leaning back in his chair and pulling out his headphones.

"Hopefully," said Julian, throwing an almost forced smile towards Will.

He unsettled him. (Oh, God, this is getting to be a popular thing!) It wasn't anything in particular. Something just seemed off. He barely ever tried in class, yet he always seemed to do well. Also, his taste in literature was far from…desirable (to say the least).

Lately, he had taken to reading a novel called: 'Battle Royale.' It wasn't as if it were an underground novel. Everyone knew about it. It was just common courtesy not to read it. It was, after all, a depiction of people entered into 'The Program'. Anything to do with 'The Program' was best avoided. It was, unfortunately, broadcast on every television channel at the exact same time. The only way to avoid it was just not to watch (which in this day and age was almost impossible, due to the lack of other stimulation.).

Will, however, was far from the collective mentality of the population. He was a strong believer in the concept of: "If it's not happening to me, I might as well enjoy it. And if it does, I deserve it."

Walking into the classroom, register clasped in one hand, their form tutor entered. Sitting down at the desk at the front of the class, he pulled a piece of paper from the register and said, in a clear voice (layered deeply with a Geordie accent) : "Will Will and Julian go to the ILC."

* * *

The ILC was the shortened version of the phrase 'Interactive Learning Centre.' It was, basically, the fancy name for the room the sixth formers spent their study periods in.

The room consisted of a large space, large enough to accommodate over 150 people (if not in slightly cramped conditions), and numerous desks. The walls along the right hand side, as you entered the room, were taken up by at least 30 computers.

The occupants of the room were (at a quick count) about 33 in number. Staring around each other, they all let out a unified sigh of relief. The Program would only go ahead, if 40 students were present. They were safe.

That is…until the gas was pumped into the room.

**40 STUDENTS REMAINING**


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 2:

"Uggggghhhhhh…..Whatthefuck…" mumbled Mario Antoniou (Male Student #14) in a single, continuous stream of speech, as he groggily lifted his head from the stiff wooden surface that his cheek was, previously, pressed against. Squinting through half closed eyes, his gaze fell of the wooden surface. It was an old, gnarled, school desk. The kind that was probably used thirty years ago (or now, depending on an educational institution's budget). Almost every inch of the light brown surface had been graffiti'd. He could clearly make out several of the messages, even in the dim light and through his semi closed eyes.

The words : "FUCK YOU, FUCK THE SCHOOL" "TONY BLAIR SUCK MY DICK!" and "THE PRIME MINISTER LOVES WOMEN IN UNIFROM!" were carved into the surface in several places.  
Wait a minute! This wasn't right!

He was supposed to be in the ILC for some kind of student address. Where the fuck was he!

Lifting his head, he looked around himself, turning his head in an almost jerking motion. As he did so, the thick black mesh that was his afro almost seemed to bob. He was, as far as he could make out, in a dreary, dark classroom. The other students who were in the ILC at the time of his sudden memory lapse were also here, either slumped over desks or looking around in a manner similar to himself.

The windows, positioned along one side of the room (just above a long cabinet that spanned the classroom's entire length), appeared to be painted over, obscuring any light that attempted to break in.

Where the fuck was he?

* * *

Alice Woode (Female Student #9) had just woken up. The first thought that raced through her mind as she stared around the dark room was : "Oh my god! If it's night time, I might miss going out clubbing!"

Her next thought was: "Wait…Where am I?"

Groaning to herself, she reached out with her hands and clasped the end of the desk furthest away from her. As she hoisted herself up into a sitting position, her long false nails scraped against the wood, making for a slightly unpleasant sensation.

Opening her eyes wide, she looked around herself. This, however, was impeded as a bright, almost blinding, light seared through the class.

"Good evening ladies and gentlemen!" rang out a clear, glee-filled voice from the front of the room. The sound of clapping hands was then heard as the owner of the voice attempted to rouse the students from their gas induced slumber.

"Any nasty after effects?" the voice rang out again. "I doubt it." The voice answered itself. "The gas was designed to not produce any problems such as that. We want you all at your best when we start our little event."

The students eyes gradually grew accustomed to the burning, searing, whiteness that could be called light, that was being spewed from several high intensity floodlights at the front of the room. Blinking repeatedly, they finally managed to recognise the owner of the voice.

He was a short, but not overly so, middle aged man. His hair (which may once have been the subject of a receding hairline) was shaved close to the skin, permitting him the appearance of someone bald. His face was twisted into a toothy (Ugh, yellow teeth. How attractive.) grin. Fitting close to his chubby body, was a short sleeved pink suit shirt.

"Now that I have your attention, I can get down to business."

The students remained silent, holding their collective breath in expectance of an answer to the fiasco.

"You have all been chosen to participate in the season finale of 'The Program'!"

Someone screamed.

**40 STUDENTS REMAINING**


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 3

'The Program'. First created in the Republic of Greater East Asia under the rule of the Great Dictator, over sixty years ago.

I suppose that I should explain how this event (originally incorporated to utilize the 'services' of fifty third year junior high school classes a year, under enforced circumstances) managed to cross a continent and 'set up shop', one would say, in England.

Although the Republic of Greater East Asia is widely considered, by most western cultures and governments, to be a government comprised of National Socialist 'demons' (much how they view us as 'Evil Imperialists') many of their ideas have yet to go unused.

During a period of extreme recession and economic depression, in a 'last ditch' election, an extremist party know as 'Elevenths' were voted into power. In a period known as 'Rejuvenation' the party managed to quell the issue and soon gained popular support. They then turned their attention towards the next most severe problem that seemed to be plaguing the country: The ever rising population figures.

Needless to say, they adopted the RGEA's concept of 'The Program.'

Due to them gaining popular support, there was little resistance (this may have also been due to their process of seizing control of the military, however, public courtesy was not to speak of such things). Within a few months, the results were a resounding success and, due to a suggestion put forward by an unknown source, they soon decided to … how should I put this…Expand public participation in the event. … Yeah. That should do.

On October 12th 2010, 'The Program : Season One' aired on television.

* * *

No way. No way no way no way! Beau Mehtre (Male Student #12) couldn't believe that this was happening. He… HE was in 'The Program' the god, fuckin', damn PROGRAM! This had to- No, this must be a dream. There was no way that he could be in 'The Program'!

It was (and should have always remained) just some thing that people talked about that should never have happened to him! Granted, there was always a chance that ANY group of students could be chosen, but why did it have to be him. He was never this lucky when it came to ordinary things that involved chance, so why did he have to 'win' now?

Its not as if indications of 'The Program' weren't all around him. It was on television every day. Its just that he could never have imagined that he would be there, like the people he saw on TV. Of course, every so often, a girl would come into school crying that her cousin or someone that she knew was on the program and he couldn't help but feel a little bit of anger towards the government, but after a few days, the same girl had stopped crying and started smiling, and his feeling would subside. But…that was the closest he ever came to having anything to do with it. He couldn't be chosen. So fuck off, man!

Just as he was about to protest the situation, the man in the pink shirt spoke again.

"Very attentive," he said, breaking into a wide, cheerful, smile. "An attentive class is a responsive class. From your reactions, I can see that you know all about our little game."

He's calling it a game? What the hell? The students didn't respond. After all, how could they. The sheer notion that they would have to kill each other was so horrifying that they were put under some kind of collective daze.

"Now, as I was saying before, you have all been chosen to participate in the season finale of 'The Program.'" Still no response. "I will be your new teacher. My name is Mr 'O'!" Turning around, to the blackboard behind him, Mr O picked up a piece of chalk and wrote his ludicrously short name in large block capitals. "I am going to be overseeing your progress in the competition. I think you will find the next few days…interesting to say the least. You'll find that most of it is based on personal preference."

Clasping his hands together in front of him, his thin lips twisted into a gleeful smile as the students continued to stare blankly towards him.

"Some of you may be more inclined towards foolhardy courage, others despicable cowardice. Some are silent loners, others find strength in numbers. I would advise against this if at all possible. Some of those among you might not share the same…sentiments as others."

As he said this, several of the students began to nervously stare around themselves. Whenever their eyes met one of their classmates', they hastily averted their gaze. Already, they were suspecting people.

"Basic subtraction," Mr O continued. "40 minus 39. Only one survivor. Survival of the fittest, or so we like to believe." His grin grew wider. "Kill or be killed, little warriors."

The room full of students still didn't respond. Kill you classmates? No fuckin' way!

"Umm…Sir…"

Arose a voice from the far side of the room. Sitting, slightly slumped, in his seat was Matt Halsmon (Male Student #4). A thin film of sweat glistened on his forehead as he raised his hand.

"Oooo! Sir!" Mr O hummed, as if to himself. "Always good. Speak!"

Almost staggering to his feet, Matt began to writhe his hands in an interlocking motion in front of him as he stammered: "I-I-I-I-"

"Spit it out, boy, I don't have all day!"

Everyone in the room was desperately hoping that he (as the only one not too terrified to speak) may form some kind of protest.

Hey, man. Can ya help us out?

This hope was snuffed.

"I-I- I counted the students wh- when we were in the ILC," he stuttered, too terrified to articulate a sentence. "T-there are only thirty three of us…!"

Mr O broke into a gleeful smile as he reached into the pocket of his black suit trousers and said : "That's not a bad point…."

Suddenly pulling his hand from its enclosing material, he pointed his arm towards Matt in a strong, powerful pose.

BLAM!

Chucks of fragmented bone and a grey jelly-like substance that may have been his brains (Well of course they were his brains!) flew through the air and spattered the students in the immediate vicinity. This was followed, before the body even had a chance to fall, by a truly massive amount of arterial spray, gushing from the painfully red and angry looking stump that was once the bottom half of his head. Spraying out in several different directions, much like a sprinkler system, Beks Donn (Female student #4) who was sat behind him, was covered in the deep crimson blood. Her eyes opened wide in shock and, almost immediately, she began to sporadically twitch and tremble in fear.

Crashing to the floor, Matt's body twitched slightly, but only for a second. Jutting out from beneath his body, his left arm (which was twisted around in an uncomfortable fashion) and hand poked out from the sleeve of his black blazer. If you were sitting close enough, you may have even seen the second hand of his watch ticking away.

"And if you had let me finish, then I would have explained it to you," Mr O grinned, lowering his gun. "Oops…I'm not supposed to kill people am I?"

Everyone screamed

**39 Students Remaining**


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 4

"Alright, alright!" Mr O called out, raising his hands in an attempt to silence the students. Needless to say, this failed spectacularly. Some of the braver students had even gotten out of their seats and were attempting to escape the room. It was absolute pandemonium.

Sighing to himself, Mr O raised his hand into the air and fired several warning shots from his gun (which just so happened to be a Military & Police Issue 38. Calibre Smith & Wesson, but that was besides the point) into the ceiling.

Everyone stopped screaming.

"Okay, let me get this straight?" Mr O sighed, lowering his arm. "The man with the gun shoots someone for speaking out of turn, and you decide to scream and run around? And here was me thinking that this class had promise." He broke into his ever familiar gleeful smile. "Now sit the fuck back down or I'll shoot you."

Slowly, almost painfully, the standing students slinked back behind their desks and into their seats, before glaring, through hooded eyes at the madman with a gun who was calling himself their 'new teacher'. Fuck off, you sick bastard!

"Now," he said, clapping his hands together. "In order to avoid any unpleasantness, I think it's time to take some precautions." Turning towards the only door into the room, he called out: "You can come in now!"

Bursting through the door and storming to the front of the room, beside Mr O, several Special Defence forces officers in Khaki uniforms entered. Each of them wore and assault rife over their shoulder and a large automatic pistol strapped to their belts.

Every student had the same thought: Fucking coward!

Indicating one of the officers, he pointed to Matt's body and said: "If you don't mind?"

Nodding gruffly, the officer strode into the isle and grasped the body by it's right arm before slinging it up onto his back. As he did so, a mighty gush of blood spewed forth from Matt's disfigured head and splashed on the floor, expanding the massive puddle of crimson. Turning back up the isle, the officer heaved when he reached the front of the room and threw the body at the base of the blackboard. Landing in a crumpled heap, his disfigured head lolled to the side, so that it was pointing towards the class. Every aspect of the splintered bone and mashed brain was visible to the students.

A heavy groan was heard from the back of the room, followed by a damp splash. Someone had vomited. They could all smell it, but only barely, due to the reeking stench of fresh blood that encircled and suffocated the room.

"As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted," Mr O smirked. As he said this, the class simultaneously gritted their teeth. "You may have noticed that there are seven…well, hahaha, now there's eight, empty seats. This is because, due to your school being a female dominated environment, we have decided to bring in outside students to…how should I say…even the odds."

Turning towards another of the officers, he said: "Bring them in."

The student's (or should I say the remaining students) gazes were glued to the entrance to the room. They wanted to see exactly who these people were going to be.

Entering in a long line, their new 'classmates' each bore the same harrowing look as themselves. That was a relief. Well…except one.

He was tall and lanky, with hair the colour of sandstone that stuck out wildly in several different directions. There was a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. He appeared, horrifyingly enough, bored.

"Hurry up, hurry up!" Mr O ushered, pointing them towards their respective seats. Some of them slipped slightly on the blood that covered the floor, adding to their horrified expressions. "I haven't even got to the good part yet!"

Still the students glared.

"As you have probably guessed, your parents have been notified. They send their love, kisses, yadda yadda, the usual." He broke into his gleeful smile. He's getting off on this! The sick fuck! "Down to business. In this game, you are all unequal. That's the way it is. It's the way you were born. The way you have lived. And, for 38 of you, how you will die. That is why this particular piece of entertainment has so much appeal. Imagine the thrill when some gutter trash chav takes out the top football star, or when an upper class little princess gives up her virginity to…well, whoever's willing to take it." He smiled again."Fair does not enter into this. You may want to keep that in mind."

God damn. Their so called teacher's a fucking loon.

"Now that you are all here, I should probably explain the rules," he said, turning back to the board and drawing a large square on it in chalk. "Listen as if your lives depend on it, because, funnily enough, they do. You are in a square area, approximately six kilometres in perimeter. The entire area in your arena. There are no time outs. No safe zones." He drew an X slightly off centre inside the square. "This is the school building we are inside right now. During the game, I will be here overseeing the troops monitoring your progress or lack thereof. Do not even try to escape. The perimeter is surrounded by twenty foot high electric fences. Underground escape is ill advised as well. We have taken the precaution of inserting steel plates under the fence up to 15 feet down."

Great. So there was no way out!

"And, even if you do manage to get out, there are tanks posted outside. They have orders to shoot on sight." Reaching up with the chalk, he proceeded to draw a grid across the square and write the letters along the top and numbers along the side: A-1, A-2... Etc. The entire thing now vaguely resembled a map. "Now, in order to add another random aspect to the game, every six hours I will be broadcasting randomly selected 'Dead Zones'. Now you need to take note of these because of the collars you're wearing."

What the fuck? What collars?

Reaching up with their hands, the students felt the cold bite of metal fastened around their necks. Collars! Like they were fucking dogs! Some screamed. Others furiously tried to tear them away from their skin.

"I wouldn't't do that if I were you!" Mr O said. "If you try to remove it, it will explode."

They immediately ceased their attempts and sat, nervously, with their hand on their laps.

"You need to get out of the danger zones indicated, before they become active. Otherwise…" The students knew what he would say. "Your collars will explode. And don't try to remove them. They're waterproof, shockproof, and nu-uh, no way, they wont come off. And, as I said before. If you try, they will detonate. No more head. Bye bye, so long. Its gone."

As he said this, another of the special defence forces officers had entered the room, wheeling a large cart, covered with khaki duffle bags.

"As you leave here, you will each take the bag off the top. Each one contains food, water, a map, compass, a watch and a randomly selected weapon. Some advice to the female students would be to get your hands on some sort of firearm early on. Unless you are confident that you can physically overpower the male students."

Turning towards the class he broke into his gleeful smile and rubbed his left hand over his shaved head. "Any questions?"

The students were silent. They were totally overpowered by the severity of the situation. Not to mention the stench of Matt Halsmon's fresh blood as it filled their lungs.

"One…" arose a lazily calm voice from the back of the room. It was one of the 'transfer students'. his cigarette was still hanging from his mouth.

"Yeeeeesss?" Mr O asked, comically.

"When does the game begin?"

"As soon as you leave here of course," he grinned in response. "Oh! And I forgot to mention this but; five minutes after the last of you leaves, this grid square on the map becomes a permanent danger zone. Loitering is ill advised."

Turning towards another of the officers, he motioned for him to hand out a stack of lined paper on the desk in front of him and a packet of pencils.

"Before you leave, I want you to write me lines. Writing things help you remember." When he was sure every student had a pencil and a piece of paper, he said: "I want you to write: 'I will kill' ten times. When you are done, I want you to write: 'If I do not kill, I will be killed'."

Fucking bastard, thought Beau Mehtre (Male Student #12) I'll stab you in the neck with this pencil.

**39 Students Remaining**


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 5

"All done?" Mr O questioned, grinning, as he paraded down one of the isles, hands in his pockets. Perring over the shoulder of one of the students, he noted that they were finished and spoke again. "Good."

Walking to the front of the class, he swung his hands out to his sides and began to address them again. "Now, you will all be leaving within two minute intervals of each other, effective from when the first person leaves the room. The same computer that randomly chooses danger zones has also chosen the student number to leave first." Taking a small brown envelope from one of the officers, he tore off the top and said: "The first one to leave will be….hmm…lets see. Male Student # 8, Jacob Booth."

Jacob let out a semi-audible shriek. Staggering to his feet, he basically tripped over himself in an attempt to get to the front of the class. Slipping slightly on the blood that soaked the floor, he grimaced as he grasped his duffle bag and disappeared out of the door and down the hallway.

"OH!" Mr O called out after him. "Anyone loitering in the hallway will be shot! I'd advise you to move a bit faster.

The silent room was filled with the sound of Jacob's footsteps pounding down the hallway.

After approximately two minutes, Mr O called out the name of the next student. It was, obviously, Female Student #8 Lor Farren. As she slowly rose to her feet, her long curly, dark brown, hair swayed around her face as she wiped her tear filled eyes and retrieved her duffle bag, before exiting the room. It was odd to see her like this. She was usually so happy.

* * *

It had been just under 15 minutes since Jacob had left the room and Ademola Atebota (Female Student #11) was running down the hallway, duffle bag slung over her shoulder. She was breathing heavily. She was unfit and she knew it.

As the pounding sound of her footsteps echoed in front of her, she caught sight of a slight light coming from one of the doors to her right. As she passed, she peered inside, allowing the yellow lamplight to spill onto her dark skin. The room was occupied by no less than thirty Special Defence Forces officers.

Increasing her pace, she sprinted towards the door at the end of the hallway that led out onto the athletics field.

Bursting through the doors, she continued to run. There was no sign of Will Pryer (Male Student #11) who had left just before her. This was exactly what she had expected. It was no secret that he was prone to reading novels concerning 'The Program'. He had probably already decided on his course of action and fled the scene, so as not to be caught in a danger zone. Hey, for all she knew, he might even be playing the game.

It was then that she noticed something up in front of her. Despite the fact that the blackness of night had been swept across the area, this was clearly visible. It was the outline of two people. They appeared to be struggling over something.

BLAM!

The gunshot echoed across the flat landscape, assaulting Ademola's ears as the spark from the gunshot illuminated the figures in front of her for a fraction of a second.

One of the figures collapsed. The other sprinted off, the outline of his long curly hair bobbing and swinging as she lost sight of him.

Running forwards, she reached the collapsed figure. Even though it was dark, she could see who it was. Collapsing next to him, her vision was filled with the sight of Jacob Booth, coughing ad spluttering as he gave into his injuries and died. The ground around him was warm and sticky, probably with blood.

No….this wasn't possible. Will was playing!

**38 Students Remaining**


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 6

Jordan Jarve (Male Student #16, and Transfer student) was running, no sprinting, at full speed across the athletic field that expanded in front of the school building.

How the fuck was he even chosen to do this anyway! Out of the millions of other students in the thousands of other schools, he was one of the ones to be picked to be an 'extra' in the finale of this sadistic fucking show! And after he was so pleased that he had survived! Irony? Yes please, I'll have two servings of that, you fucking Elevenths bastards!

Well, at least he was at an advantage. Kill your classmates? No fuckin way! Kill a group of people you've never met before and come out alive at the end? Yes please!

He was as adverse to killing as the next person, however, in such an extreme situation, with a lack of emotional ties, one's mind works in fascinating ways.

There was one problem, though. He DID know one person in this class. Coincidence? Oh yeah. The biggest fuckin' coincidence ever!

If he could somehow find him, then he was sure that he would be able to win or, by some massive streak of luck, escape this fucked up game. After all, he was the smartest person that he knew, save for one.

When he was sure that he was a safe distance away from the school, (he made a guess that he was about 100 meters away) he collapsed. Zipping open his duffle bag with such force that the zip almost broke, the thrust his hand inside and pulled out his torch and map.

Unfolding the slightly crumpled piece of paper, he looked around himself slightly before cupping his hand around the end of the torch, so as to reduce its light emission and prevent people from noticing him, and switched it on.

As the dim yellow light fell on his map, he scanned the numerous symbols that were printed onto the paper. It was from this that he was able to deduce that there were two small villages within the designated area. (The government had probably relocated them a few weeks ago in order to set up things for the competition.) There were also several small farms and a water tower marked on it in, severely distanced from one another. No less than 20 outcrops of trees were seen within the blank expanses of fields as well as a construction sight, slightly out of the zone the school occupied.

Raising his head, he peered around himself. He was just beyond the expanse of the athletics field, slightly within an outcrop of trees. Checking his position on the map, he sighed in relief. He was just outsize the grid square the school occupied.

Suddenly, his ears pricked up. He could hear someone moving close by. Rapidly switching off his torch, he stuffed it back into his bag, along with his map and rose to his feet. Turning, he ran further into the outcrop of trees and didn't stop.

* * *

Gina Jayy (Female Student #17) was sprinting down the hallway outside the classroom. She had just passed the room filled with Special Defence Force officers and had sped up massively because of it. Two minutes before her, one of the so called 'transfer students' had left. His name, apparently, was Brynn Jones. Although he had appeared to be scared, Gina felt a strange vibe from him. That he was dangerous.

All she could think about was that, outside the door at the end of the hallway, he was waiting for her, waiting to kill her.

Stepping through the door that led to the athletics field, she sighed. He was nowhere to be seen. Gingerly stepping out onto the field, she hugged her duffle bag to herself before slowly walking in an almost perfect straight line. Her petite form almost seemed to glide across the grass.

Then she saw it. In this darkness, it resembled a large, dark, garbage bag. But that was ludicrous. What would a garbage bag be doing in the middle of a field. Approaching the dark shape, she raised her hands in front of her mouth in an attempt to stifle a scream. It was a body.

The form of the person was large, so it must be a male student. Moving closer, she realised that it was laying on its back, permitting her to see its face. The corpse was that of Jacob Booth. The entire ground around him was coated in a black, shiny liquid. If the sun had been shining, however, the liquid would have been closer in colour to the cross of the British flag. crimson red.

Who could have done this? What kind of person could actually kill their classmates! Maybe it was one of the 'transfer students'. Yeah, that was plausible. They didn't know Jacob. They would have any emotional ties. But, even still…how could anyone kill someone like this!

Prying her eyes away from the body, she turned to her left, in an attempt to leave the athletics field… and came face-to-face with the barrel of a gun.

The left side of her jaw was completely torn apart by the force of the bullet colliding with her face. Shattered fragments of teeth flew through the air in several different directions as blood sprayed from the side of her face. Lolling between the gap in the torn and burnt flesh of her cheek, her tongue, which appeared to be ripped in half, started to flail about. Tripping over her feet, from the force of the shot, she collapsed on top of Jacob's corpse.

She was, however, alive.

Striding towards her, Brynn pointed the gun downwards, at her forehead, and pulled the trigger again.

BLAM!

**37 STUDENTS REMAINING**


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 7

Beau Mehtre was currently moving around the streets of one of the two villages marked on the map. Even through his chances of survival were higher if he were to hide in a remote location (seeing as most people would probably seek shelter in a house) it was more likely that he would run into people who didn't want to play here. After all, the more people who didn't want to play, the more resistance he could put up against that sadistic fuck in the pink shirt.

Clasping the kitchen knife that he had dug out of his duffle bag in his hand, he continued to slink along the side of the building. He could swear that he heard someone up ahead of him.

His thoughts were immediately confirmed as his ears picked up the sound of shattering glass. Someone had just broken into one of the houses down this street.

His hands, soaked in a chilling sweat, clasped the handle of the blade even tighter as he moved down the road. After travelling approximately twenty metres, he spotted the almost liquid shimmer of broken glass, in front of the house ahead of him.

He guessed that he should probably enter and persuade whoever it was to join him.

* * *

Lauren Hatch (Female Student #10) hugged her knees close to her chest. Above her, the surface of the wooden table began to creak. Yes, that's right. She was hiding underneath a table. A few seconds ago, she had reached this house, in the centre of one of the urban areas marked on the map. When she tried the door, she realised that it was locked and decided to break one of the windows with a rock she found, decorating the flower bed below the window. She hadn't counted on it making such a loud noise, but there was no-one nearby, was there?

Trembling, she clasped her legs even tighter. Staring down at the ground beside her, he face bore a disgusted, yet still terrified, look as her gaze fell on her designated weapon. It was a fucking boomerang.

This had to be someone's idea of a joke. It was completely fucking stupid that anyone could use a boomerang as a weapon. It was the same kind of twisted sense of humour that she expected to come from Will Pryer.

Then she heard it. The sound of someone stepping on fragmented glass.

Someone was in the house.

Her left hand shot out and immediately clasped hold of the wooden surface of her boomerang. It may have been a useless weapon, but it was all she had to defend herself.

"Hey!" called out a low, but friendly, voice from the room next to the kitchen in which she was hiding. "Is anyone in here?"

The voice belonged to Beau Mehtre.

"Oh, thank god!" she thought. He was one of her friends. There was no way that he was going to kill her.

Scrambling out from beneath the table, he long auburn hair swung around her body. Practically running into the next room, she almost cried when she saw Beau. She wasn't going to die alone. He would protect her!

* * *

Tasha Tison (Female Student #2) stumbled and staggered through the outcrop of trees on the far side of the athletic field. Small twigs and branches cracked beneath her feet as she ran, desperately trying to escape the sight that confronted her as she stepped out of the main door.

Corpses. One of them was so disfigured (probably due to the two bullets that had been pumped into her head) that she actually threw up.

People were playing! What if the one who killed them decided to come after her? She was going to die and she knew it. Someone was going to kill her.

Tripping on a large branch, she fell heavily on the leaf strewn floor and began to cry. A cut had been opened on her cheek from her fall and, as she lay there sobbing, the blood mingled with the tears streaming down her face.

She didn't want to die, she didn't want to die, she didn't want to die. She was supposed to be at home now. At home with her mum. Her mum who sometimes annoyed her because she would phase in and out of French and English. Her mum, who although she argued with, she still loved. She didn't want to be here in this fucked up game. She didn't want to die. She didn't want to die. She didn't want to die!

She heard it. Footsteps. Approaching her. Footsteps. Growing closer.

What if it was the person who killed those two people outside the school. What if he (Oh god, what if it was a girl!) wanted to kill her!

She didn't want to die.

She began to crawl. Through the leaves and twigs strewn across the floor. Splinters dug into her fingers. She didn't care. She wanted to get away from here. That was all. She didn't want to die. She didn't want to be killed.

Still the footsteps grew closer. Closer. Closer!

She didn't want to die.

She could hear the heavy breathing as the person approached. Hear the soles of the shoes cracking the small branches of the floor.

Her ears were filled with the throbbing pump of her heart. The rustling and cracking of her bloody fingers against the ground.

She didn't want to die. She didn't want to die. She didn't want to die. She didn't want to die.

Fear. Primal fear coursed through her veins. She could practically taste the adrenaline that was being pumped through her body.

Still her tears flowed down her face. Still she crawled desperately. Still the person continued to come closer. Closer. Closer.

"No…!" she coughed, fighting through the tears as she crawled. "Not me! Not me! Not meeee!"

Sobs racked her body as she screamed.

"It's okay!" called out a friendly voice from behind her.

No! it cant be friendly. It was a trick! He was trying to trick her so he could kill her! No. Not her. He wouldn't fool her!

Ripping open her duffle bag, she pulled out a small object. What was it? She didn't care! He was coming closer. She rolled onto her back. Tears filler her eyes. She couldn't see. No. That didn't matter. She had to make him go away. He was going to kill her. Kill her! Make him go away!

She threw the object.

There was a pleasant noise, somewhat like a nail being hammered into a piece of wood. 'THUNK'

This was followed by a heavy crash.

Opening her eyes wide, Tasha's gaze fell on a body. A large body. With an afro. It was Mario. No. Mario was her friend. He wouldn't want to kill her!

Wait….Why did he collapse?

"M-Mario…?" she stammered, crawling forwards, towards him.

Oh god! Oh god no!

There was a knife planted at an odd angle in his head, just above his left eye. In fact…no! slightly in his left eye. Blood and retinal fluid leaked into the leaf strewn floor.

She had killed him! Killed him!

How could she! This wasn't right. She just wanted him to go away. No she couldn't have! But, the knife. It was there. He was dead. No…she had killed him!

Raising her bloody hand to her face, she continued to sob. She couldn't believe what she had just done. She wanted this to be over. She wante-

BLAM!

It was over. Her entire train of thought ended in a single instant, with that one gunshot. She left this world without a single thought towards her family.

Above the two bodies, a figure with a cigarette hanging from his mouth merely sighed as he bent down and began to dig through their duffle bags.

**35 STUDENTS REMAINING**


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 8

Kris Wynnas (Male Student #3) was sitting up a tree.

Yes, that's right…A tree.

It may seem idiotic, given the situation, but it was, in fact, a very well thought out plan. In circumstances such as these, people were in a state of thorough panic. It would be quite obvious that they wouldn't bother to look up.

It was an ingenious plan and, to be honest, he was quite proud of himself. After all, it was every man (or woman) for themselves. No less than an hour ago, he had come across the corpses of Tasha and Mario. The image of this was freshly burned into his mind. He wouldn't be forgetting that anytime soon.

What was bugging him, though, was the fact that they had two different wounds on their bodies. It was certainly plausible that someone killed Mario, took his weapon and laid in wait for Tasha to show up, however, he felt that the truth was far more ominous than that. He got the feeling that almost everyone was willing to play, either for the fun of it, or simply out of a warped sense of extreme fear.

In the distant horizon, the sun was just starting to rise. As the clouds drifted lazily through the semi darkness, ever changing shadows were thrown across the fields that occupied Kris' vision above the tree line.

Looking down at his wrist, he checked the time on the government supplied watch. In the illuminated neon green of its surface, several block-like numbers indicated that it was 5.59am. As was typical of the early summer months, the sun was rising early.

"Shit…" he thought to himself as his eyes scanned the floor below him, through his thick glasses. "I doubt I'm going to get out of this any time soon…"

* * *

Rajan Lail (Male Student #10) was scared. No. To put it more accurately, he was terrified.

As he sat, propped up against a bush that bordered a field, his chubby, tick-lipped, face bore an expression of utter, untainted fear.

There was no way that he could be chosen to compete in 'The Program'. It just wasn't right. Things like this didn't happen to him.

Eyeing the duffle bag that was situated next to him, he debated over whether or not he should open it or not. There was a weapon inside. A weapon that he could use to defend himself. A weapon that could… kill people.

No. he couldn't kill people. No matter how scared he was. Could he?

His hand moved, as if by itself, towards the zip of the duffle bag. Should he at least remove the map and watch? He would need to know times and locations in order to mark off the 'Dead Zones.'

Making up his mind, he unzipped the bag and thrust his hand inside. Not daring to touch anything but what he was aiming for, his grip tightened the instant that he felt the rough crumple of paper.

Rapidly withdrawing his hand, he re-zipped the bag and laid the map out on the floor in front of him. The sun was rising in the distance and, as a result, it wasn't that difficult to make things out.

Then he heard it. The raspy, metallically distorted noise that was being emitted from a small speaker on the side of his collar.

* * *

_FZZT "Good morning one and all! Aren't you lucky! You get to hear my beautiful voice so early in the morning!" Fuck off you fat prick. "To be honest, I expected better. You've been set loose for just under two hours and there are only four deaths? I'm sorry, but if you want to make any kind of run at the record, this us unacceptable._

_Oh well. I should probably read off the list of the dead. Oh! Our first to leave is the first casualty! Male Student #8 Jacob Booth! Next we have Female Student #17, Gina Jayy…Then Male Student #14 Mario Antoniou. Aaaaand, to round things off, we have Female Student #2, Tasha Tison!_

_I do hope that this isn't the best you can do!_

_Oh well…onto the danger zones. As you know, F6 has been active since Female Student #7 left, so this is just an update. Zone D1 will become active at 8.00am. Hear that? Be out of D1 by 8.00am! Next, its A4 at 10.00am. A4 at 10.00am! And, finally, we have E7 at 11.00am. Everyone get that? Good!_

_Happy hunting, little warriors. And, please do try harder!" FZZTT_

As if in response to this, a gunshot echoed across the landscape.

**35 Students Remaining**


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 9

A few minutes before Mr O's announcement, the small figure of a girl was seen creeping through the bushes that lined one of the fields. Her once black suit now resembled somewhat of a dark brown in colour and almost seemed to glisten in the early morning light. Her face was morphed into a permanent expression of untainted terror.

Her shoulder length brown hair was matted and wild, despite the fact that she only left the building under 2 hours ago. Her eyes were wide with fear, accentuating the fact that something dark and red was stuck to her temple.

After witnessing the murder of Matt Halsmon at the hands of their sadistic teacher, and being the one who was sitting closest to him (thereby being covered in his blood) her emotional faculties were a complete and utter mess.

Beks Don (Female Student #4), was losing her mind.

How the hell could they be expected to kill one another? It was insane! How the hell could you kill people who you spent almost every minute of every day with? It was like killing your family. It just wasn't right.

Stumbling slightly as the heel of her shoe sank into the mud around her feet, she let out a small shriek. Thrusting her hands out in front of her, her digits ended up plunging into the thick brown mud.

As large tears rolled down Bek's bloodstained face, they left thin white lines through the expanse of slightly brownish red. These white streaks, however, soon disappeared due to her mascara beginning to run.

Gritting her teeth to contain the tears, she rose, albeit unsteadily, to her feet before continuing on her way. Even through squinted, tear-filled, eyes she could make out where she was heading.

The grey skyline of the village was just visible on the horizon.

She had to get there. She could find a house. Lock the doors. Bolt the windows. Yeah, sounds good. It was better than being out in the open like this.

She had gone a whole hour, after she left the school before checking the map, and in that time had somehow made it almost to the opposite side.

She had to get there. Had to hide. Hide. Hide.

_FZZT "Good morning one and all! Aren't you lucky!"_ Toned in a voice from a speaker on the side of the metal collar that was fixed to her neck. Collar. Like she was some kind of dog.

_"You get to hear my beautiful voice so early in the morning!"_

She couldn't take it anymore. She just couldn't stand listening to it anymore. Couldn't stand being reminded of this psychotic fucking game. She just wanted to be deaf to all of this. Deaf to the gunshots. Deaf to the screams. Deaf to the sound….oh god, the sound. The sound of gushing blood as it sprayed her in a veil of crimson. But most of all, she wanted to be deaf to the voice of Mr O as he read off the names of the dead students. Her dead friends!

_"I do hope that this isn't the best you can do!"_

No. No! It Should be the best we can do. I mean, who would actually want to kill people. Who would actually want any of this!

Deaf. Deaf to it all. Block out the sound!

For some innate reason, she succeeded. She heard nothing. Absolutely nothing.

This, however, was probably due to the sound of the gunshot.

She felt a blow to the middle of her back. Somewhat akin to a hard kick. As the wind was knocked out of her, she fell forwards, again landing in the mud. The only difference was that, this time, her hands were not raised to impede her descent.

Collapsing, hard, on the floor her head hit a small rock. As the searing bite of torn flesh seared through her scalp, she winched. But otherwise…she was fine.

It would've been a lot worse if she hadn't been wearing a bullet-proof vest underneath her shirt and blazer.

* * *

Striding towards the body that was no less than 6 metres in front of him, Brynn Jones (Male Student #17) pushed his long fringe out of his face and pocketed his gun (which just so happened to be a Colt Anaconda). A slightly hot sensation was felt coming from the pocket of his baggy jeans, however, this soon subsided.

Flexing his fingers, he continued to move forwards as he eyed up (what he thought was) the corpse of Beks Don.

"Shit…" he thought to himself. "I shouldn't have killed her so soon…"

As his vision trailed up the long shapely legs, encased in a pair of black tights, he struggled to get a better view up her short, black, pencil skirt. To his excessive annoyance, he was unable to get a good view.

"Oh well…there's always the next one." he thought.

Finally reaching the body, he bent down and went straight for her duffle bag. Picking it up by a fold of the khaki material, he shook it violently. He heard nothing that indicated a weapon. Did that mean that she had it on her? Probably.

Throwing the bag to the floor, he knelt down next to the body and began to frisk it heavily up the waist and torso. Hey, just cos' she was dead wasn't gunna stop him from copping a feel.

Just as he reached the sides of her chest, a sly grin plucked the corner of his mouth as he slowly reached inwards and began to-

Wait? Shouldn't she be bleeding?

Needless to say, Brynn got more than he bargained for.

"Fuck!" he cried out as Beks instinctively swung her arm around at him and dug her long, manicured, nails into the flesh that covered his face. Dragging her nails down, she left several long gashes down his cheek which suddenly began to spill blood down his pale skin.

Rapidly thrusting his hand into his pocket, he withdrew his Colt Anaconda and pumped two bullets into the bitch's head.

Arching backwards so far that it appeared that her spine might snap, she collapsed as the oozing mush of fragmented bone and grey brain began to spew blood into the mud that she was sitting in.

"Fucking bitch!" Brynn hissed, clasping his face with his free hand.

**34 STUDENTS REMAINING**


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 10

Lor Farren (Female Student #8) was scared out of her mind.

That, happy, giggling girl that was known to her classmates was now gone. Replaced with a seething mass of deep primal fear that tormented her every second.

Her long curly hair that reached down the middle of her back was matted and untidy. Her mascara was running down her face. Her lips were twisted into a permanent state of terror, threatening to let out a scream at any second. Her long pencil skirt was hiked up, allowing her to move faster as she ran (it was probably the only rational decision that she had come to in the whole of the game), and the heel of her right shoe was missing.

Clasped in her quivering hand as she stumbled through the undergrowth was a pistol. The metallic gleam shining in the morning light.

The thing that was (apparently) called the safety had been off ever since she dug it out of her duffle bag and (albeit hurriedly) flicked through the accompanying manual.

Staggering forwards, deeper into the expanse of trees that surrounded her, she continued to sob, tears streaming down her face. This wasn't supposed to happen to her. She was never supposed to be on 'The Program'!

* * *

Rajan Lail was still hunched over his map. He in a state of shock from the amount of dead students, not to mention the gunshots that had echoed through the landscape after the announcements were over.

After hearing of all of his classmates that had finally reached their impending end, he felt highly tempted to remove his weapon (whatever that may be) from his duffle bag. But, if he did, did that mean that he was playing the game? What if he killed someone? Could he actually…kill someone?

How was anyone able to kill someone? How were six of his friends dead already? Were they really killed, or…Maybe the government was organising this so that the first few weren't? Trying to make the rest of them kill each other? That was plausible, right?

But, what if people were actually playing? Like Mr O had said!

Turning around, in the direction of his duffle bag, he reached out and undid the zipper. Inside his, now open, bag was something that vaguely resembled a tin box with a handle poking out from the bottom. This was accompanied by several magazines (not those that you read, the kind used for bullets, duh!) and two boxes of 9mm bullets.

What the fuck was this thing?

Looking up from the bag, his eyes suddenly opened wide.

_BANG!_

The gunshot echoed through the landscape.

* * *

Oh god damn it…

Beau Mehtre (Male Student #12) was moving through an alleyway between two semi-detached buildings, in the middle of one of the urban areas. All around his feet, the floor was littered with… well litter. Empty beer cans and packets of crisps almost seemed to swim around his feet as he dodged the puddles that lined the floor and continued to groan to himself.

He wasn't, necessarily, groaning because of the state of the alley, however. He was groaning because of his company.

Lauren Hatch (Female Student #10) was trailing behind him.

It wasn't like he disliked her company. In fact, she was one of his friends. He was just hoping to find someone more…physically attractive. It wasn't that Lauren was ugly. She was far from it. Its just that Beau never saw her as more than a friend. He wanted to find someone that…That he was attracted to. He wanted to…Well, I suppose you could say that he wanted to be a hero. Aid a damsel in distress. That kind of thought appealed to him.

Continuing down the alley, his grip on the kitchen knife tightened so much that he was almost white-knuckled. A cold sweat stuck to his forehead, beneath his moderately long fringe.

He could hear someone around the corner. The sound of heavy breathing and the clacking of high heels filled his ears, gradually growing louder. The person was approaching them.

High heels. That was a good sign. It was a girl.

Stepping out from around the corner, he lowered his knife and opened his mouth to speak, when he laid eyes on Alice Woode (Female Sudent #9).

Ironically enough, she was exactly the kind of person that he was attracted to. It was, also, a bonus that they just happened to be friends.

He long brown hair was now matted and dishevelled. Her mascara and eyeliner was running down her face. Her foundation (which looked as if it had been plastered on) bore thin lines running down it, from where she had been crying.

Clasped in her hand was a large revolver.

On the side of the barrel, the words " Colt Python .357 Magnum Revolver" almost seemed to gleam in the light.

"Its okay!" Beau called out, as she raised the gun at the sign of movement. "Its me, its me!"

**33 STUDENTS REMAINING**


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 11

_Click…_

_ Click…_

_ Click…_

Leaning so far back in his chair that his body was almost horizontal, Mr O continued to push down on the top of his pen and sighed to himself. He was bored.

Yawning to himself, he leaned forwards and placed his elbows on the surface of the desk at which he was situated, in the middle of a large hall. All around him, Special Defence Officers were furiously typing and clicking away at a numerous amount of computers, positioned around the edge of the school hall.

All around the walls, plasma screens and monitors had been fixed to the brick surface, along with wires that probably numbered in the thousands. In the corner of the hall, a low hum was being emanated from a generator that served as a secondary source of power to the mains.

Streaming down from the high ceiling, was the bright glare of artificial light. This was, obviously, to be expected (even during the day) as the windows had been covered by steel plates in order to defend against any student stupid enough to venture towards the school's danger zone and attempt an attack.

Tilting his head to the side, so that the light reflected off of his shaved head, Mr O glanced, briefly, at one of the screens. The picture that it showed was that of three students, standing in the middle of an alleyway. A neon green number, in the top right of the screen, read: 'C6-Camera 21'.

This image was, obviously, that of Beau Mehtre (Male Student #12), Lauren Hatch (Female Student #10) and Alice Woode (Female Student #9).

"Hehehe…" chuckled Mr O, breaking into a (slightly yellowed) toothy grin. "Making alliances, eh?"

"Sir?" questioned one of the Officers, turning away from his monitor. "I didn't catch that."

"And too right," Mr O laughed. "It wasn't thrown your way. I was merely making an observation, soldier boy."

Turning back to his computer screen, the soldier seemed to grunt, slightly, however the instructor failed to notice this and, instead, continued to muse to himself.

"What a waste of time…It's kill or be killed, yet time after time, someone always joins up with someone else…It just makes them more of a target." His face suddenly widened into a broad smile. "Oh well…At least when they're killed, it'll be entertaining to watch."

All of a sudden, something caught his attention on another of the monitors.

Signalling one of the Officers, he shouted out: "Enlarge that!"

Following the instructor's orders, one of the Officers began to furiously type on his keyboard. As if in response to this, an image previously occupying a small screen across the hall, moved to a much larger one, directly opposite Mr O.

The screen now bore the image of three teenage boys, standing together. The top right hand side read: 'H3-Camera 5'.

"More alliances sir?" questioned the Officer from earlier, turning to face Mr O.

"Not just an alliance," Mr O said, pointing towards the edge of the screen. Depicted in the distance was a small figure, making it's way towards the group. "A massacre!"

* * *

Male Students #5, 9 and 13 were standing together, debating what to do about the situation. Naturally, due to him being head boy (Oh god, he still hadn't removed the large silver badge from his lapel), the focus of the debate was #5, Jeremy Meek.

"I told you, I don't know!" he protested as his thickly accented, Canadian, voice rang through the landscape. "Just because I'm head boy doesn't mean that I know what to do in a situation like this!"

"C'mon man!" Male Student #9, Luke Bryant said, sounding slightly worried. "You're supposed to be able to cope under pressure!"

"Pressure is one thing! Killing your classmates is beyond pressure!"

"You must be able to come up with something!" cried out the pretentious sounding voice of Jonah Goffe.

"I already told you that I don't know how to cope with this!" Jeremy cried, turning slightly red. "Luke's the one who waited outside the school for the two of us!"

"That's only because I thought that you would know what to do!" Luke said.

As their conversation continued, the sound of their voices were escalating. They were already at the stage where they were drawing far too much attention to themselves (and it was because of this level of noise that Mr O had, in fact, noticed the monitor that they were being displayed on).

It was, also, due to this heated conversation that they failed to notice the figure approaching them from the depths of a bush, seven meters to their right.

The figure was tall and lanky. His hair, which was the colour of sandstone, stuck out in several directions, permitting him somewhat of a deranged appearance, despite his overly calm facial expression. Unlike the other 'transfer students' he wore a combination of a blazer and suit trousers (albeit without a tie), resulting in him easily appearing to be an original member of the class. Hanging from between his lips was the filter of a cigarette (probably burnt down to this due to an excessive drag).

Reaching up with his right hand, Dean Koontz (Male Student #19, and transfer student) removed the cigarette from his mouth and threw it to the floor, before raising the Government Model Colt. 45 in his left hand and firing a shot into each of the three students in front of him.

Lolling his head, lazily, to the side, he placed his gun into his pocket and reached inside his blazer. Withdrawing his hand, he raised a packet of cigarettes to his mouth before removing one and replacing the packet to his inside pocket and pulling out a shimmering zippo lighter.

Once the tip of his addiction had been lit, he strode over to the bodies and began to dig through their duffle bags.

**30 STUDENTS REMAINING**


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 12

Lianne Otter (Female Student #12) was sitting, crouched, somewhat inside a large shrub when she heard the shots. Five of them. She had no way of knowing that it was these five shots which had resulted in the deaths of Luke Bryant, Jeremy Meek, and Jonah Goffe, and to be honest, she didn't want to know.

She just wanted to be out of this psychotic fucking program.

She wanted to be at home, belting out the lyrics to a Jon Bon Jovi song as she sat in her room, with the stereo turned up full blast.

She wanted to be hanging out with her friends, laughing the way that she always did.

She wanted…God, she even wanted to be (dare I say it) revising for a chemistry test.

Anything. She wanted anything over this madness. This overwhelming fear that assaulted her body as she sat there, trembling.

What the fuck was she going to do!

Nothing. Nothing came into her head that served as a relevant course of action. Absolutely fuck all.

Burying her face in her knees, which were currently hugged up to her chest, she began to sob as strands of her chocolate brown hair (sporting several faint tints of her natural colour of bright orange) fell around her dreamily pale, and cutely freckled skin.

This may sound strange, but if anyone who knew her were to see this, it would be an increasingly odd sight. This was, predominantly, down to the fact that she was such a happy person. Only those ever truly close to her had ever seen her cry. It was a privilege reserved for only her best of friends (and not a very good one at that). Tears didn't suit her. She suited happiness. She suited her trademark, toothy smile. She suited, her happy, almost hyperactive, attitude.

She didn't suit this. She didn't deserve this.

Pulling her knees higher, her tight black pencil skirt slipped down her thighs and bunched around her waist, showing off her well formed legs, clasped by a pair of shiny black tights.

"I just want to go home…" her high toned voice whispered, from her obscured mouth.

It was then that she heard it… Rustling. Like feet being dragged through leaves.

The sound was coming from behind her. Deep within the confines of this outcrop of trees. And it was growing louder. More sporadic.

Pursing her lips together, she swallowed hard, in an attempt to quell the lump that was rising up her throat. Should she…go and check it out?

What if they were dangerous?

What if whoever it was, was playing!

She heard a loud, harsh shout followed by an even louder cry of rage.

But, what if they were in trouble? She just couldn't let someone die!

* * *

Brynn Jones (Male Student #17, and transfer student) was currently moving through an outcrop of trees, somewhere in the region of zone E3 (that is, assuming that he was reading his map correctly).

His face still hurt. The burning, searing, pain that was emanating from his cheek had been almost overpowering him for the past hour.

He didn't care about his…*cough*… ulterior motives anymore! He would shoot anyone he encountered on sight! And, now that he had his 'new toy' there was no way that he could lose in a direct confrontation with anyone.

Suddenly, she spotted something out of the corner of his eye. It appeared to be a large bushy mass of curly hair.

* * *

Moving slowly through the trees, Lianne nervously clasped the strap of the duffle bag, slung over her shoulder.

Why was she doing this? She could be killed! But…she couldn't just let someone get hurt. What if all this noise was someone in trouble.

The sounds of rustling leaves and cracking twigs grew ever louder as she moved deeper into the trees, as did the ever persisting grunts and shouts. Could these be the sounds created by two people fighting?

She could feel her heart throbbing inside her chest. Each individual contraction of the chambers identified itself into a single heartbeat. Atrium, atrium, ventricle, ventricle… (Oh jesus, how come she could remember biology NOW, but not in exams!)

Her breathing became heavier as her footsteps crunched through the earth. Her chocolate brown hair stuck to her pale skin, gripped to the freckled surface by a chilling sweat.

Maybe she should just turn back? What if whoever it was decided to… kill her!

Slowly lifting her feet, she began to slowly turn around.

Then it happened…

Two large figures crashed through a bus that had once occupied Lianne's left side. Leaves and splinters of wood flew into the air as the two boys, one clad in a suit, the other in jeans and a t-shirt, ripped through the shrubbery.

Leaping backwards, Lianne attempted to cry out, before witnessing a truly horrible sight.

The figure in the suit (which just so happened to be male student #11, Will Pryer) jumped backwards, raising his right hand into the light. Clasped in his fist was a large knife. It somewhat reminded her of the scene from Crocodile Dundee. "Ya' call that a knife…THIS is a knife!"

Lashing out forwards in a quick, almost fluid motion, Will Struck his opponent across the face with the blade.

This couldn't be happening! She knew Will! He'd never do something like this. He was always just that guy who occasionally asked her if she was okay; who she sometimes talked to at parties; who she sometimes had a laugh with. He always seemed so nice! How could he do something like this!

Digging the shimmering, almost liquid, edge if the knife into the boy's face, Will continued to push his arm forwards, until a sharp cracking sound was heard. Blood sprayed into the air in a manner much like that of a sprinkler system, soaking the sleeve of Will's blazer in a deep coat of crimson, as the bone splintered around the glistening metal, chipping out a small piece of the steel, which soon became lodged in the torn mass of lacerated skin and cheek muscle. Stumbling backwards, the victim collapsed and fell onto his back. Now exposed, his face was the subject of pure untainted gore. His left eye (or what was left of it) had been split by the knife, resulting in a mixture of retinal fluid and blood leaking down his cheek and mingling into the blood that was being spewed forth from around the blade. His mouth, which had been lodged open by the base of the metal, bore a mixture of bloody torn gums and shattered teeth. It was disgusting.

Horror filled her body as Lianne looked down at the lifeless corpse. She wanted to scream. She wanted to run. She wanted to-

"Lianne?" echoed the gruff voice of Will, as he finally noticed her standing there.

Oh no! she thought. He's going to kill me! Kill me like him! I have to run!

Without a second thought, she turned tail and ran. No…More sprinted. She had never moved so fast in her life.

Stumbling through the undergrowth, she tried to let out a screech, but no sound escaped her trembling lips.

No. That didn't matter. She just wanted to get away. Get away from this…this psychopath who she thought she knew! Get away from the disfigured face that was split at a somewhat odd angle down the middle, like a peanut! ( "Ladies and gentlemen, the amazing peanut man!" ) Get away. Get away! Get away!

**29 STUDENTS REMAINING**


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 13

Female Student #6, Emma Kynde just couldn't believe that this was happening. She was (yes, you guessed it!) terrified.

I know that this is getting to be a regular thing, but, there really is no other way to describe how she was feeling. She was alone. She was cold. Her friends were dying. People were killing each other, and may even try to kill her (Well, duh, of course they were going to try and kill her). If you were in her position you, too, would be terrified.

She was currently somewhere in the vicinity of zone G3, although she may have easily been in H3, due to her position of almost practically on the line that divided the two on her map.

It had been twenty minutes since she had heard those five gunshots. They sounded close. She had debated whether or not to move for about fifteen minutes, however, she soon decided against this. If she moved from her hiding spot, there was a high possibility that she would run into someone.

Oh! I should probably say WHERE she was hiding.

While most of the other students either took to the urban or rustic approaches, respectively, Emma was very different in her choice of hideout. Despite her terrified nature, she had made a logical choice. She was currently sitting inside a small farmhouse.

Located on the border of zone G3, it was remote, isolated and was the only hospitable location this far from the two small villages. Its only weakness was the fact that someone may have had the same idea as her, however the odds of this were 100 to 1.

Looking around the farmhouse, her gaze fell on the furniture. Worn, old… Exactly what you would expect.

I suppose the only consolation in all of this was that she wasn't out there in the fields…cold and terrified. She could rest safely here…Even if she was going to die.

Allowing her field of vision to wander, her eyes picked out a shape on top of the coffee table to her left. The long barrel of the gleaming dark metal pointed accusingly towards her, as the light shone off of the magazine that was protruding from the base of the grip. This weapon was, unmistakable, an Uzi.

Granted, it was probably (as odds go) one of the best weapons included in this games, but something about it repulsed her. The feeling that this thing could kill someone was…horrible.

Suddenly, a sound assaulted her ears. The sound of splintering wood.

The door had been kicked in.

* * *

Will Pryer (Male Student #11) was sitting propped up against a tree. On the floor beside him was his duffle bag, partially open, revealing it's contents. The Bowie Knife that had been previously embedded in the skull of Brynn Jones, poked out at an odd angle, reflecting the shape of the zip in its shiny surface. Underneath it, a half open box of bullets was laying propped up against a large 2 litre water bottle.

Looking down into the bag, Will reached out and clasped the tips of several 9mm bullets before pulling his hand out of the khaki material. Pushing the bullets into his spare magazine, he pocketed the dark shaft-like structure and picked up his latest weapon.

Clasped in his palm was what appeared to be a flat, tin, desert box with a handle poking out from the bottom. The back of this structure was occupied by a short stock guard, and the side of the weapon sported a small rectangular gap, used in the expelling of spent shells. Just above his finger, which was currently occupying a space just in front of the trigger, a small slide-like structure was poking from the metal. Above this slide was the word 'safety.'

Yes, this weapon was none other that an Ingram MAC-10, 9mm submachine gun.

You may be asking yourself "Where the fuck did he get that!" And this, my friends, is a very important question. Cast your minds back to our dear departed friend, Mr Rajan Lail. No assailant was named after his, poor untimely demise…. Starting to catch on?

Glancing down at his waist, his eyes fell on yet another of his weapons. Strapped to his belt was a holster cradling, yet another, gun. It was a Makarov pistol. A Russian model gun.

Underneath his black suit shirt, a slight bulk was present. This wasn't due to the fact that he was overweight, but rather a direct result of the Kevlar vest that was strapped to him.

Letting out a deep sigh, he stood up and began to pace the small clearing that he was in. Any observing person may have found this odd, considering the situation, however, like everything else he did, it had a reason. Strung out around the outcrop of trees he inhabited was a long length of wire he had obtained during his brief visit to one of the villages a few hours prior. Tied to one end of this wire, and balanced on top of a relatively flat tree branch, was an empty can. Yes, you've guessed it! It was a homemade alarm system.

How, do you ask, did he know how to do all this. Simple. The only book he had read for the past two and a half years was Battle Royale. The infamous novel which outlined the lives of 42 students in the original Program, hosted in the Republic Of Greater East Asia.

But this wasn't all he had done. Oh no. During his night time wander, he collected other supplies. Supplies that were hidden in a safe place. A place in the blind spot of the numerous cameras that lined this countryside, filming the 'latest episode' for the public.

He was, what you would call, a natural!

**29 STUDENTS REMAINING**


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 14

As the breeze whistled down the high street of the village they were currently occupying, Beau Mehtre and his two companions began to discuss what they were going to do.

Earlier, upon meeting up with Beau and Lauren, Alice had decided that it would be in their best interests to give Beau her gun. The reason for this? Because she felt that if she was allowed to use it then she would probably end up shooting herself in the foot. No pun intended.

As they conversed, Beau reached behind his back and tugged, in a somewhat irritated fashion, at the waistband of his light gray suit trousers. The reason for this was that the large revolver he had recently obtained was currently tucked down the back of his trousers.

"I don't know about you, but I think we should get out of this area," he said, flicking his head slightly in order to remove his strawberry blonde fringe from out of his eyes. "The longer this goes on for, the more people will show up in the urban areas. I think it'll be safer to find somewhere in the countryside. I know we're trying to find people that we can trust but… we cant trust anyone if we're dead. If we meet anyone on their way to wherever we're heading, they can join us, but, I don't think its safe here at the moment." Flitting his light blue eyes between his two companions, Beau lowered his brow and slightly tucked in his chin, as if waiting for a response.

"S-sure," Alice stuttered, casting her eyes downwards and clasping her hands together. Glancing sidelong, she addressed her friend. "What about you Lauren…?"

She didn't respond. After all, how could she. After only a few hours, at least five of her friends had died. No. Had been killed! And by her other friends! It was like some sick dream!

"Lauren!" Beau said, his low voice echoing in her ears. "Are you okay with us moving?"

Snapping herself out of her daze, Lauren looked up at him and nodded meekly.

"Okay," Beau nodded. "Lets go… before a psycho shows up…"

* * *

"Hello!" called out Jordan Jarve (Male Student #16, and transfer student) as he stepped over the splintered pieces of wood that lined the doorway.

Looking down at his hand, he peered at his designated 'weapon'. Clasped in his hand was an object that somewhat resembled a 'SAT-NAV' GPS. The kind that were often used in cars nowadays. In the middle of the shimmering crystal screen was a small star-like icon. Depicted in the top right hand corner of the same screen was the exact same icon. Someone was inside this house.

Taking another quick look over his shoulder at the surrounding farmland, he made sure that he wasn't being followed before venturing inside. He just hoped that whoever was in this farmhouse was friendly.

Slowly advancing down the hallway, he continued to check over his shoulder, before reaching a door. If anyone was in here, they would be through this door.

Reaching out, he enclosed the doorknob in his sweaty palm and turned it 90 degrees to his right. Creaking inwards so slowly that it was almost painful, the opening door revealed the room to Jordan.

In the center of the square living room, was a low coffee table. Surrounding this table were two large sofas, and a television set. (Television. The mere thought of it sounded ludicrous. After spending a few hours in this psychotic game, Jordan wasn't even sure if something that like ever existed. Was it just a memory conjured from Jordan's imagination?) Next to this television set, was a girl holding a machine gun.

"Whoa!" Jordan cried, raising his hands in front of himself, in a ludicrous attempt to shield himself from the bullets that could spray from the nozzle of the gun at any second. (Duh! Hello! Hands to stop bullets? Impossible much!)

"Wh-who are you!" the girl stammered, tightening her fist into a white-knuckled grip on the holster of her Uzi.

"My name's Jordan," he said slowly, purposely lowering his voice in an attempt not to provoke her into shooting him where he stood. "I'm a transfer student."

"How did you find me!" she trembled, her face wound up so much that Jordan could see the whites of her eyes in a clear ring around her irises.

Carefully raising his hand, Jordan brought his GPS/ Tracker mechanism into clear view. The clear morning light that was seeping through the woolen curtains reflected off of it's almost liquid surface in a clean shimmer, as he said: "I used this. It shows people who are nearby. I checked it and saw that someone was close. I followed the signal and it led me here."

"Why!" the girl suddenly blurted out, a bead of sweat dripping down her forehead. "Why would you want to find anyone!"

"I'm looking for someone that I know," was the response.

"Another transfer student?" she questioned, raising a single short eyebrow.

"No," Jordan stated. "It's someone from your school."

"Who?"

* * *

"What do you mean by a psycho?" questioned Alice, in a spectacularly out-of-character act of meekness. She had since discarded her blazer and was currently only wearing her slim-fitting suit shirt and black pencil skirt.

"Well obviously there are people that're playing," Beau stated, flicking his head to remove his strawberry blonde fringe from his eyes. "Plus… You remember that guy from the classroom? The transfer student, with the crazy spiky hair." The two girls nodded. "Yeah… I just get this feeling from him. He kinda freaks me out."

"You don't just think it's him, though, do you?" Alice questioned, as they continued to walk along the side of the building.

"I'm not sure…" Beau muttered, squinting his eyes. "I think the other transfer students may play… But…I keep getting the feeling that some people from our school are playing."

"Like who?"

* * *

"Will?"

"Yes," Jordan said. "I know William. Well…I kind of more than know him…"

"What do you mean?" the girl said, knitting her brows together.

"He's my best mate…" Jordan smirked. "Has been, for the past five years."

* * *

"Nah, I don't think that Will'll play," Beau muttered, to Lauren, who had suggested that Will would be one of the ones in their school who would be willing to give in to the allure of 'The Program'. "He's too down to earth and calm to buy into it."

"And?" Lauren persisted. "He's read that !" She spat out the word almost as if it was too dirty to even be acknowledging it as 'that'. "He knows how the game works! He enjoyed reading it. Out of anyone, he's probably the most likely person to play!"

"Yeah, but that just means that he knows how to stay alive," Beau responded. "He's not the kind of guy to get stressed or freaked and go on some killing spree. Even if he has read 'Battle Royale.' The government only kept it in circulation to make more people willing to play if they were selected. He knows that. That's the reason why he won't do that."

"But have you ever heard him talk about it!" Lauren stated, lowering her brow. "He gets this weird glint in his eye. Like he's enjoying it!"

"I just think that's 'cos he knew that if he were to ever get picked, that he would be able to last till the end. Either that or he knows something about the government, or the way the game is run."

* * *

"He's your best friend?" the girl said, open mouthed with shock.

"Yeah…" Jordan chuckled. "Selected to kill each other. Even though we're in different schools. Ain't that a kick in the teeth."

"That's…That's horrible!"

"Meh," Jordan merely grunted, a small smile plucking the corner of his mouth. "If anyone'll be able to survive, it's him."

"Why's that," she asked, somewhat relaxing and lowering the nozzle of her Uzi.

"Because he's knows all about this psychotic fucking game. He's read about it. He's researched it. He watches it on TV. He's seen films about it. He doesn't do all that 'cos he's got a sick interest in it, or he finds it entertaining. He does it so that, if he ever got into it, he'd be able to find a way out or, failing that, survive as long as possible."

"I never thought about it like that."

"Plus, he's smart. Probably not as smart as you lot in your school, but he's got so much fuckin' applied knowledge it's unbelievable. Did he ever tell you that he knows how to make a bomb?"

"Yes…" she chuckled slightly, remembering the conversation she'd had with him, in his blind enthusiasm about the subject matter. Suddenly, she changed the subject. "So what about you?"

"I'm not much, in comparison," he laughed. "I'm more athletic, and I've read the book as well, but I'm nowhere near as smart with shit like that. I'm better at computers."

"Computers?"

"You chose not to shoot me with that thing, and you'll find out," he chuckled, pointing towards the girl's Uzi, which was still partially raised.

Suddenly realizing that she was still holding it, the girl dropped it to the floor and smiled, her face flushing slightly red with embarrassment.

"I'm so sorry," she smiled nervously.

"It's alright," Jordan smiled back. "By the way, what's your name?"

"It's Emma," she said, still smiling.

**29 STUDENTS REMAINING**


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 15

Female Student #16, Robyn Sheere, sighed deeply. Tightening her grip on her assigned weapon, her eyes picked out the writing on the side of the barrel: 'SIG-Sauer P230 9mm Short Semi-Automatic Pistol'.

Would she actually ever have to use this thing?

Never before in her life had she ever expected that she would be involved in this evil excuse for a game. Even when the first instalment of 'The Program' had aired on television, she had (albeit foolishly) assumed that she would be spared from this massacre. She had believed that she would be fine. She was relieved when it was announced on the News that this series was coming to an end. She had come into school believing that she would be fine…

…Then she woke up to that sadistic fuck in the pink shirt!

Words couldn't describe how unbelievably… angry she was!

Needless to say, this wasn't the approach that the majority were taking to dealing with 'The Program.'

While the rest of her fellow students had opted, either for foolhardy courage or blind panic, she had simply gotten angry. Angry…No, furious, with those in charge of the game. How dare they. How DARE they choose her for this sick, twisted excuse for a government policy!

She wouldn't, no, she couldn't let this shit get to her!

There was no way that she was buying into this shit. They couldn't just say to her: "There you go. Kill your friends." How dare they!

There was, however, the issue of the collar. The choking, suffocating ring of metal that had wound itself around her neck. The collar that seemed to squeeze the very life out of her. The collar that made her feel as if she were some kind of dog! How dare they!

And then there was that 'Instructor' or 'Teacher' or whatever the fuck he was! Standing there, having fun watching them squirm. That sadistic, megalomaniac, narcissistic fuck! That…That… CUNT!

There was really no other way to describe him. She hated that word. She really DESTESTED that word, with such a strong passion that even thinking it made her feel even less of a person. But… that's exactly what he was! An evil, self-obsessed, shit-spewing, fucking CUNT!

Feeling herself almost literally boiling over with anger, Robyn gritted her teeth and began to mentally count to ten.

Letting out another deep sigh, her gaze fell onto the silver glimmer of light that shone from the lapel of her slim-fitting suit jacket. It was her executive badge. Like (the now deceased) Jeremy, it was large and silver. She was (or used to be) in charge of all the house officers in the school.

She couldn't let this get the better of her. After all, she was a Lead Student. Her Head Girl, Louise, wouldn't be acting like this. She had to set an example. There was no way she was panicking.

* * *

Female Student #3 Louise Blare placed her finger on the trigger of her Czechoslovakian CZ 75 Semi-Automatic Pistol.

Unlike Robyn's image of her, she was on the end of her rope. To put it in simple terms, she was 'freaking-the-fuck-out'!

How the hell was she supposed to survive in this game! People killing each other. It was kind of obvious that so many of them would start to kill each other. Everyone was crazy!

Or…maybe she was the crazy one…?

If everyone was getting into the game and she wasn't…maybe she was the one with something wrong with her!

With her highly intelligent nature, and athletic build, she should have been a prime candidate to win the season finale. Unfortunately, those who were probably betting on her hadn't foreseen her slightly unhinged approach to dealing with the situation.

Everything seemed to put her on-edge. Every rustle of an animal moving through the undergrowth. Every sensation the wind created as it passed her by. It all seemed to intensify the feeling that death was ready to strike her at any second.

She could practically see the ominous figure looming behind her as she walked. The skull that symbolised the ever-present threat of death. The cloak that threatened to enclose around her, like the suffocating blackness of the night sky. The scythe that threatened to reap her life at any second.

Louise Blare was being stalked by death.

And he was growing closer with every passing heartbeat.

* * *

Male Student #19, Dean Koontz was walking (No. It was more of a stagger.) along the edge of a field. He was currently, still, somewhere in the viscinity of zone H-3. After his massacre of approximately 1/5 of the male population of the Girls Grammar School, he hadn't done much.

His past two hours had consisted of merely wandering around the area surrounding the water tower, smoking.

His nonchalant attitude was completely out of place in the madness and insanity of 'The Program'. Perhaps this was the reason why he was so good at this. It wasn't that he was having fun, or doing it because he had to.

He simply didn't care.

Up ahead of him was a small farmhouse.

**29 STUDENTS REMAINING**


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 16:

Ryan Raroof (Male Student #2) was pissed off.

His inclusion in 'The Program' was the main reason for this, however, several other things had contributed towards his mood. The first of these was the environment that this installment had been set in. Previous showings of the game had been aired as being set in a sectioned of area of a city suburb. He hated the fact that he would have to ruin his expensive suit, squatting in some field! It wouldn't be as bad if he were wearing a tracksuit or some shit like that, but these clothes cost money! The next, and most important thing that pissed him off was his weapon. Ordinarily, he would be able to make do with anything, but his was just fucking ridiculous! He'd been given a fucking saucepan lid!

Oh well… he thought to himself as his vision ran across the round, shiny metal surface. At least he didn't have something even more useless… Like a spoon.

* * *

Clasping his fist tighter around the smooth shaft of his desert spoon, Male Student #6, Will Burrow let out a low groan to himself.

He had originally decided against buying into this game, however, after the previous announcement from Mr 'O', coupled with the occasional gunshots that echoed throughout the landscape, he eventually opened his duffel bag…. And found the fucking spoon!

He wasn't cut out for this shit. Sure, he was athletic and all, but he was unsure as to how he would be able to cope under situations like this. He was used to making snap decisions, and he was able to cope under pressure (due to his employment in several theatre shows). He was sure of that much. But… he still didn't know how to cope with this psychotic game.

Kill or be killed. Those were the rules. Rules he didn't intend to follow. There was no way that he was doing a thing that the bald retard calling himself their teacher was telling him to do. Fuck that! The guy is a prick!

But there was still the issue of his 'weapon'.

The goddamn, useless, fucking spoon!

**29 STUDENTS REMAINING**


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 17

"So…" Emma said, casting her eyes towards the floor slightly. She was currently sitting on the frayed, brown material of the sofa, separated from Jordan by several mis-matched throw pillows. Her Uzi was sitting on the coffee table in front of the two of them. "Um… What…school do you go to…?"

What the hell was she doing! Couldn't she think of anything better to say at a time like this?

"Heh…" Jordan chuckled as he, too, glanced towards the floor. "I…uh, don't really go to a school. I study at a community college…"

Oh come on… he thought. This was just silly. Here they were, faced with the probability of death at any second, and all he could do was talk about college. The worst thing about this was…She was so pretty. It wouldn't have been so bad if that hadn't been the case. He just couldn't stop staring at her.

"That's nice," she smiled. "So… when did you meet Will?"

"Five years ago," he replied, still attempting not to look at her. "We started secondary school together, and something just clicked. We like the same music. All the same things… He's my PIC."

"PIC?"

"Partner in crime," he chuckled, glancing at her for a brief second and finding himself unable to look away. Her multi-tonal blonde hair shimmered in the light in a flowing torrent of sandstone and gold, that reached just below her jawbone, highlighting her sparkling blue eyes and her dreamily pale skin.

"Hehehehe," she chuckled in a slight girlish giggle, presenting dimples on the base of each cheek. "That's pretty funny."

"So is William your friend or…?" he began, his low toned voice breaking the partial silence.

"Oh yeah," she smiled, cheerfully. "He's nice. He's in my History class, and we hang out at lunchtimes. He's the kind of guy…you can talk to, y'know. He's easy to get along with."

"He's always been like that," Jordan smiled, in reply. "William's probably the nicest guy I know…" As he said this, he couldn't help but feel a slight twinge of jealousy towards his best friend. While he was stuck in a community college, filled with drug addicts and gypsies, with only his 'dark as night' gothic friend as company, Will had managed to secure a place among all these girls. This twinge however was soon dismissed. There was no way that he would just dismiss him like that.

Emma, yet again, smiled. He was nice. He was… just like Will. Sure he looked different, but there was an air of resemblance. His skin was dark, giving him the appearance of someone from south Asia (although his mother was in-fact from Trinidad) and his hair was black and fell around his face in corkscrew-like curls. For some reason, she found him quite attractive.

"Why do you do that?" she suddenly asked. "Why do you call him William?"

Jordan paused for a second. "I dunno," he suddenly said. "It's just what I always called him."

Sitting there in silence for a second, they continued to stare at each other. They knew they were probably going to die in the next few days. Maybe even in the next few hours. But… for some reason, sitting talking to each other, they forgot all about it. The entire system of 'The Program' was based on fear and mistrust. To just chat as if nothing was wrong, as if they weren't going to die, they just forgot all about everything.

"Hey," Jordan suddenly said. "Wanna see something cool?"

Emma hummed, briefly, as an indication that she wanted to know what he was bragging about.

Grinning to himself, Jordan reached down and clasped the straps of his duffel bag. Lifting it off of the floor, he unzipped it and pulled out a small laptop computer.

"What the…?" Emma gasped as she laid eyes on the laptop. "Where did you get that?"

"From the last house I was in," he replied, grinning as he opened the screen and turned it on. "Just lying around."

"But that's stealing," persisted Emma, her innocent attitude playing through.

"S'not as if they're gunna be using it anymore," he said, typing furiously on the keyboard. Grasping the top of the screen, he span the laptop around, so that it was facing Emma. "Take a look at that."

Displayed on the screen was a spreadsheet, filled in with numerous codes. Emma pulled a confused face.

"What am I supposed to be seeing here?" she questioned, raising one eyebrow.

"A program I made," he grinned. "It's always saved onto my memory stick, that's attached to my keys, so I didn't have to recreate it. I loaded it onto the computer."

"What's it do?" she asked, interest lining her voice.

"It's a surprise," he continued to grin. "I cant say. All I can tell you is that it involves worms. Hehehehe…"

Emma pulled a confused face, but decided against pursuing it. If she had persisted, he probably would have explained it using all the official terms and she wouldn't have been able to understand, anyway.

Closing the laptop, and continuing to smirk to himself, Jordan placed his computer back into his duffel bag. Rising to his feet, he turned his dark brown eyes towards Emma and said: "Do you want to come with me?"

Emma didn't respond. She was confused. Did this mean that he was going to leave? No… He couldn't. She thought that he would stay with her.

"What?"

"Staying here is clever, but, it's not for me," he said. "I need to look for William. God knows, if anyone's gunna survive, it's him. I need to find him. I'm asking you if you want to come with me." He broke into a warm smile, as he slung his bag over his shoulder.

"I…" Emma paused. Did she really want to go with him? Out there, into the open. Out there, where people were killing each other.

She stood up.

No. She could do this. They had a gun. They had that thing that told you where people were. And… she trusted him. She trusted Jordan to protect her. To keep her away from harm.

Jordan smiled.

She was coming with him. He had someone to protect. Someone to help him. Someone…who was so stunning. So pretty. He could…he could see himself falling for her.

Emma walked towards him. She opened her arms to her sides. She smiled warmly. Jordan opened his arms.

Clasping each other in a hug, they sighed. They were glad that in such a short amount of time, they had become friends. They were glad they had found each other. They were-

P-ping! P-ping! P-piiiiing!

Jordan's device suddenly emitted a high toned sound. It indicated that someone had just moved within it's range.

Suddenly pulling away from Emma, he blurted out: "We have to go! Someone's here!"

Reaching down, Emma grabbed hold of her Uzi, by it's stock and started to run towards the door, following close behind Jordan. Sprinting from the house, their feet crunched against the dry leaves that were strewn across the ground, from the tree overlooking the house. The grass was still somewhat damp, from dew and they found themselves slipping every so often.

Turning back towards Emma, Jordan laid eyes on her face. Illuminated in the grey light streaming down from the clouds, she looked so pretty. Even though they were running from someone who could potentially kill them, that was the only thought that stuck in his mind.

_BLAM!_

Emma felt as if her head had just been crushed by a car. The 45. caliber bullet tore through the back of her head with the force of a truck, splintering her skull into fragments. As the bullet exited the front of her face, her left eye was torn from it's socket and proceeded to hang down her cheek, still connected to her eyehole, via thin pink retinal cords. Falling forwards, the back of her head burst into a fountain of crimson, just as her mashed brains began to leak down her back, staining her black business suit a shade of reddish gray.

A muffled clatter was heard as her Uzi dropped to the floor and bounced somewhat, as Emma released her grip on the stock. Continuing her descent, her face slammed into the side of the gun, just as she reached the floor.

She lay motionless. Dead. A large puddle of blood was oozing around her.

Jordan attempted to let out a cry of surprise, but no sound came out. He wanted to turn around. To see if she was okay. (Of course she wasn't okay! She'd just had her head blown apart! Jheeze!) If he turned around, he could at least grab her gun and attempt to return fire.

However, for some inexplicable reason, he continued to sprint. To run.

He felt sick. Not at the sight of Emma, as she died. No. He felt sick, because of how much of a coward he was being. He was just running. He hadn't tried to help her. To avenge her. He had done absolutely nothing.

He was ashamed of himself.

**28 STUDENTS REMAINING**


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 18:

Julian Mccans (Male Student #1) slipped slightly through the long grass. As he did so, his glasses moved slightly up his face.

The sun was high in the sky now. It was coming close to 11am. The pale light streaming through the grey clouds overhead, spread in an almost blanket-like sheet across the numerous fields that expanded in front of the contestant.

Continuing to walk through the knee-length grass, the light gleamed across the matt black surface of the German model gun that was clasped in his fist. It was a Luge P05 9mm Pistol. A high performance, semi-automatic, gun. The safety was still on.

* * *

Female Student #14, Anna Tare, was tripping out.

How the fuck could this shit be happening to her. Things like this didn't happen to her! Not her! Her daddy couldn't let this happen to her. Her. His little girl. Daddy would never allow this.

The government couldn't put her in this game! Not her! Never her!

She could understand how everyone else could be selected for this, but her mind just couldn't comprehend, not even for a second, that she could be in this insane fucking game!

Hugging her knees to her chest, her round face buried itself into the thin black material of her tights. This motion resulted in her square-framed designer glasses digging into the skin surrounding her eyes somewhat. Pooling inside the tick lenses of glass, her tears continued to build up, until flowing from around the corners of the lenses.

Gritting her teeth, she continued to pose the same futile question to herself. Why did it have to be her!

She was so used to getting what she wanted, that anything contrary to the notion that she was in complete control was nothing short of disturbing. She wanted money? Sure. Daddy gave her money all the time. She wanted things? Sure, she could use her money that Daddy had already given her, but he would by them for her anyway. She wanted a boy? Well Daddy couldn't help her there, but she would simply have to flirt until he gave in. She wanted to get drunk? She'd go out and get drunk (She may have only been 16, while the legal drinking age in England was 18, however a popular trend among students this age was the tendency to go out and get completely shit-faced). She wanted weed? You guessed it. The money given to her by Daddy went towards this. Anything she wanted, she got. Anything.

Then…This fucking game started.

She wanted to stop. Sorry, no can do. She wanted to go home. Hahahaha, no fucking chance. She wanted her Daddy to help her. Yeah, sure. Why not. Really? No. Hahahahaha.

It was almost as if the entire scenario was fucking TAUNTING her!

Shifting her sitting position, her ludicrously short skirt slipped higher up her thighs, exposing her backside. She didn't care.

Glinting in a bright silver flash, the surface of the kitchen knife on the floor caught the light as her foot nudged it.

Reaching down, she clasped it by the handle and raised it up by the side of her face. Lifting her head from its position between her knees, her tearstained eyes locked onto the knife's edge. She would have to use this, to protect herself. If anyone came into the house she was hiding in, she would have to use it. Use it to slash them. Hack them. Slice them. Fillet them. Gut them. Use the knife to fucking kill them. If anyone was going to survive, it was her. She deserved to live, not them. She needed to live. She was important. If she didn't win, she'd never see her Daddy again. Her Daddy who bought her all those nice things. Like that new mobile phone, a few days ago-

WAIT! The phone!

They'd let them all keep their bag's before they let them loose. Most people had left them behind, and only taken the issued duffel bag. But, she had taken her handbag with her (It was Gucci after all. No fucking way she'd leave it behind, only to have a Special Defense Force soldier sell it or give it away!)

Dropping the knife with such speed that it proceeded to bounce across the tiled floor of the suburban kitchen she was sitting in, Anna grabbed hold of her handbag and thrust her hand inside. Sharply withdrawing it, a mobile phone was clasped in her fist.

Slamming her thumb into the button at the base of the phone, the shimmering, almost liquid-like, surface of the screen lit up. Moving her fingers so fast that they almost seemed to blur, she typed out the number on the touch-screen in under 10 seconds.

Lifting the phone to the side of her face, she pressed it against her ear so hard that the back of her earring dug into the pale skin of her neck. The ringing sound being emitted from the phone sent shivers down her spine as she waited.

"Hello?" echoed the low voice of a man, on the other end of the line.

"Daddy!" Anna blurted out, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Y-you have to help me, Daddy! They've taken me, a-and I'm so scaaaared! You have to tell them Daddy! Tell them that this cant happen to me, Daddy!"

Sitting there trembling, she held the phone tight in her grip as she waited for the answer.

"Don't worry, Daddy's here," came the soft reply. Her heart skipped a beat. She was going to get out. She was going to be okay! "How is my little princess? You must be so scared. Don't worry… It'll all be over soon."

"Really, Daddy? You promise?" she sobbed, filled with an overflowing air of happiness.

"Of course, princess," the voice replied. "It'll all be over soon. Now how are you? Afraid? Terrified? Filled with a deep sense of fear?"

"Daddy?" he voice whispered, cracking slightly. "Y-you're acting strange…"

"You're going to be killed soon," the voice suddenly gained a softly sinister tone. "I can just tell…"

"Daddy?" she began to sob. Why was he doing this? Why was he saying these things?

"You need to stop relying on me, you spoilt brat," the voice stated softly, lined with deep undertones of menace. "Daddy isn't going to save you this time. You need to learn to do things by yourself, you little brat!"

"Daddy…!"

"Oh, and pull down your skirt, you little slut!" the voice continued. "You don't want to be killed with your underwear showing do you? Or are you planning on stopping them with that if the person is a guy? You little slut!"

"Daddy!" she screeched, bursting into tears. "Stop this! You're scaring me!"

"That what you're going to do! Wait for the killer to come in, and fuck him, to make sure he doesn't stab you in the neck, like you deserve? That it? You filthy little beast! You're going to fuck your way out of The Program, aren't you! Not that I wouldn't mind seeing it, on TV. Watching you getting fucked. Raped! Getting what you deserve!"

"DADDY, STOP!"

"Oh, princess…" the voice became scarily soft once more. "This isn't your Daddy. It's Mr O. You should really think before you do something stupid like this."

"!" she screeched, throwing the phone with all her might, towards the wall in front of her.

Clattering to the floor, the screen of the phone cracked, sending a jigsaw-like glare of light up the wall of the dimly lit kitchen.

"Daddy sends his love!" sizzled the static-charged voice, from the phone.

Letting out a scream, once again, Anna staggered to her feet and clasped the handle of the knife that was laying on the floor, halfway between her and the phone. Tripping over herself, she lunged at the phone. Repeatedly swinging her arms downwards, she began to hack at the phone with the knife.

How the fuck could this be happening to her!

**28 Students Remaining**


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 19:

"That was rather cruel, sir," a SDF soldier stated, looking up from his computer monitor and turning his attention towards the squat figure of Mr O. He was currently pacing around the school hall. In his right hand was a phone.

"And it was also rather fun!" the psychotic teacher laughed, gleefully, striding over to his desk and placing the phone down. "When stuck in a place like this, one needs to find ways to amuse himself." He paused and grinned before continuing. "Preferably without the use of dirty magazines and baby oil."

The soldier pulled a disgusted face as his attention returned to the monitor.

* * *

Beau, Lauren and Alice were currently walking along the slope of a large hill. They had been walking for close to twenty minutes.

Ever since they had decided to leave the village, Beau had entered into 'commando style'. True to his cadet training, the former Corporal that was Beau Mehtre was overly cautious. Repeatedly checking grid bearings on the map against the landscape in front of them, he made sure to stay away from areas that he assumed would draw people.

Unfortunately for the girls, his planned movements required a change. Discarding his own blazer and tie, Beau insisted that the two terrified females altered their wardrobe to accommodate their move.

'If you're wearing heels, get rid of them,' he had said, deathly serious. 'That or snap them off. We need to be able to run when we have to.'

He had also made them tie their similarly long hair behind their heads into buns, and told Alice that she needed to tear her pencil skirt up the side, to allow for increased mobility.

When asked why he was so cautious, Beau responded: 'I was stupid earlier. Assuming that I could get people to join me to fight Mr O. I was lucky, finding you two, but I doubt that anyone else we find will be as sane. Everyones been running round for about seven hours. Those who aren't completely unhinged will be the ones killing for fun. If we do find someone by chance, we'll let them join us, if we can be sure we can trust them.'

Now halfway up the incline of the hill, the small group had begun to walk around the slope, attempting to avoid the summit and staying on the side that was opposite from the road leading into the village they had previously been situated in. Beau had called it 'contouring'.

"Why are we doing this...?" Alice questioned, gasping for breath as her ruined heels slipped against the grass.

"We need to avoid that road as much as possible," came the response. "That thing down there will attract too much attention."

"What thing?" Alice asked, staggering slightly as she tried to close the walking distance between her and Beau.

Stopping briefly, Beau held the map out in front of her and pointed down at the road on it. "You passed it when you were coming into the village." Beneath his finger, printed onto the paper, was a small P. "It's a petrol station. People who want to stock up will head there instead of risking entering the urban areas."

"So where are we heading?" asked Alice, who, up until then, hadn't bothered to inquire as to their destination.

"That outcrop of trees," he responded, pointing down towards a large green area on the map. "It's the largest in the area, and all those contour lines through it show that it's got a lot of hills within it. The trees will give us cover and the slopes visibility."

* * *

The pungent reek of gasoline plagued the space beneath the wide metal canopy. Encircling the eight petrol pumps that almost seem to grow upwards towards the roof, the sickly stench seemed to thicken the air.

What once could have been digital display panels, mounted slightly above the hoses on the pumps, protruded as grey blocks (the screens, under ordinary circumstances would have been glowing with green neon, however, all power had been cut off to the designated playing area).

Protruding slightly from the edge of the canopy was the petrol station's shop. It's large windows bore a glimmering, yet undeniably, dirty shine to them as the morning light glared across their surface. Beneath these windows, large bags of coal were piled, their thick paper sacks crumpled and folded, due to their extended placement. Next to these bags was a large pile of newspapers. Displayed along the top of the building, yet still below the canopy, was a large green and red sign that read: "SPAR".

Occupying a space just next to the road that led to the station, a large pole protruded from the ground, like some kind of perverse metallic flower. Atop this pole was a large sign, blank neon screens glinting from it's surface. Once upon a time, it would have displayed the petrol and diesel prices.

There were two cars parked on top of the gravel next to the shop. More than likely left behind when the designated area was evacuated. One of their doors was open.

Echoing through the area, the crunching sounds of shoes on gravel persisted. There was someone pacing in front of the automatic doors that led into the shop.

The figure was dressed in an excessively odd attire. His trousers, a light shade of ash grey, served to stand out as being almost ludicrously different from the navy blazer that he wore. Pinned to the chest pocket of this blazer was a bright yellow patch, bearing his school's symbol. The tie that hung around his neck, swinging in front of his bright white shirt was a similar shade of blue as his blazer, with small yellow shapes decorating it. His shoes were black.

Put simply, the uniform of the school that he was in attendance at (being one of the 'transfer students') was fucking disgusting.

The automatic doors were closed. (Well of course they fucking were, genius! The power was off! How would they be able to move!)

The figure was debating over what he was to do. There were bound to be supplies inside of the shop. If he could get inside, he would be able to stock up and then hide out somewhere. He wouldn't have to move.

Suddenly coming to a conclusion, he dashed to his left, towards a small pile of car parts and various metal objects. Grasping a tire iron in his fist, he raised the steel object and struck the glass doors.

The surface cracked, creating somewhat of a spider web pattern across it.

Striking out again, his follow up blow prompted the door to completely shatter.

He needed to be quick. The sound of the breaking glass was so loud, someone must have heard it.

**28 STUDENTS REMAINING**


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 20:

Steph Night (Female Student #13) was laying down inside a small patch of undergrowth. As the dangling leaves brushed against her face, an uncomfortable tingling spread along her skin.

Reaching up with her right hand, towards her face, she proceeded to bite down, and then suck, on the tip of her thumb. It was a nervous habit that had led to her requirement of correctional tooth braces. She only had them removed three months ago.

In matching with her childlike habit, her face appeared young. Her slightly round cheeks and large blue eyes, as well as her jaw length, slightly curly, hair provided her with the appearance of an innocent child. In actuality, her actions before The Program began indicated stark contrast.

Going out and getting drunk every night. Giving head to random men under the promise of a free drink. Regularly smoking weed. In fact, just a few weeks ago, she had engaged in a three-way kiss between her friend and a man offering them marijuana upon completion of the act. Hell. Even at Beau's New Years party, she had 'got on' his 31 year old brother following his promise of reefer.

Kicked out of her parent's house five months prior, she had been living in a filthy apartment complex with her friend, accompanied by numerous drug addicts and alcoholics.

Indeed, her childlike appearance didn't suit her actions.

Actually. Tell a lie. There was one thing that suited. Her truly massive tits. At the aforementioned New Years party, someone had been doubtful of their true size. Will Pryer. The 'psycho' (although she wouldn't know of his involvement in the rising student death-toll). As a sign of 'friendship', she had let him grope her. Needless to say, her moral standards weren't particularly high. This wasn't to say that there was anything wrong with Will. He was funny, he was nice, not to mention, he wasn't particularly bad looking (oh! And he had an amazing grasp of The Program's dynamics). When he still didn't believe her, she decided to take things further.

If she could find him, then she would be able to use him to keep her alive. Remind him of it and offer him another sample.

But...she hadn't spoken to him in weeks. Jesus, she hadn't even been in school for weeks.

And...she was too terrified to even move.

Continuing to suck on the tip of her thumb, she hugged her knees close to her large chest and closed her eyes. A tear began to trickle from the corner of her eye, carrying some of her jet black mascara with it. Her eyes bore a slight resemblance to those of a panda bear.

Beginning to sob, her body rocked back and forth of the spot, prompting the leaves around her to rustle all the more.

She couldn't believe she was thinking this, but: She wanted to see her mum. She wanted someone to be there for her. To tell her everything was alright. She wanted someone to help her. To save her.

Above her, a crow was sitting in a tree. As it's cry echoed through the surrounding bushes, Steph winced. She hated the sound of crows. To her, it was the sound of death. Perhaps it was the superstition instilled in her from her Spanish relatives.

As if in response to the bird call, her mind suddenly jumped into action. Who was it that was killing her classmates. Could it be one of the 'transfer students'? Or was the culprit someone closer to home? Someone who she thought she could trust (even though none of the selected students were people that she had any form of friendship with. Save of course Will and Beau. Actually, what if it were them that had killed all of the people that Mr O had mentioned in the 6am announcement?).

"Now, look at that waste," arose a voice from above her. "I can think of plenty of things other than that thumb that would do better to be inside your mouth."

* * *

Will Pryer (Male Student #11) was still sitting propped up against the same tree as earlier. He had since proceeded to use the remainder of his fishing wire to tie the Colt Anaconda that belonged to Brynn to the bottom of his right leg; beneath his trousers.

The sun was high in the sky now, in accordance with the fact that it was approaching midday. The noon announcement would be coming soon.

Reaching into the duffle bag sat next to him, he withdrew the government supplied map. Turning the map over, something came into view. It appeared to be a list of names. Next to several of the names were small check marks. He was ticking off the names of people who had died.

Emitting a low sigh from between his lips, he placed the makeshift list on the grass and reached inside his blazer pocket. Withdrawing his hand, he had a pencil clasped between his fingers. The same pencil that Mr O had them write: "We will kill" with.

Twirling it around his fingers, he continued to sigh as his eyes focussed on the thin line of wire stretched out through the tree-line.

Visible through the zipper of the duffle bag, the matt-black surface of his Ingram shone in the light.

* * *

Beau, Lauren and Alice had just reached the tree line. Extending in front of them in a vast expanse of brown and green, the outcrop of trees almost seemed to open up to them. As a blast of wind tore through the trees, the thick scent of pine filled their nostrils.

"See that hill?" Beau stated, pointing pointing up into the outcrop. Rising above the trees was a large hill, covered with various ferns. "We're going to aim for that. Halfway up. The visibility is good, and it's covered. It's our best bet to hole up."

The two girls nodded wearily.

Due to Beau's overly cautious nature, their journey had taken three times longer than it should have. Constantly zig-zagging, not to mention avoiding the roads, ensured that they were thoroughly fatigued. But they were alive. And that's all that mattered.

Upon entering the tree line and beginning to walk, Alice's mind flashed back towards her life. Her life before this insane fucking game had torn her from everything she knew.

She thought about her mother. The woman who she sometimes found annoying, but whom she still loved. Her daddy who always protected her from boyfriends who didn't treat her right. Her little sister who was turning out to be so much like her (She was a pain in the ass sometimes, but she still loved her). But most of all, she thought about her boyfriend. Her perfect boyfriend who she would probably never see again. Ben. The greatest thing that had ever happened to her. The boy who she would walk around the Shopping Mall with, perving on girls (she would join in, so it wasn't as if he were thinking about cheating on her). The boy who kicked the shit out of that guy who tried to come onto her in that bar.

The thing that made this 'game' so terrifying to her wasn't the fact that she could get hurt or die at any minute. The reason that she was so afraid was that...she might never get to see her loved ones again.

It wasn't that she was unable to cope with stressful situations. A few months prior, she had been mugged. Indeed, she still sported somewhat of a lump, formed from scar tissue, atop her forehead. The point was that on the day, she didn't panic. She just went with the situation. She knew that if it came down to a life or death situation, she would be able to deal with it.

Now approximately thirty meters into the dense trees, the ground began to slope upwards, leading towards the hill that Beau had indicated.

All around them, birds were chirping, the sound of their song mingling with the rustling of the trees. It was actually quite peaceful.

However, another sound began to echo the trees. Something out of place. A mildly pleasant rattling sound. Sure it was different, but something about the pulse of 950 rounds a minute, on average, resembled the rapid tapping of an old manual typewriter.

All around them, random tree trunks crackled and exploded into matchstick sized splinters. Earth flew up in their faces in brown dust-like clouds.

But most devastating of all: Alice's body was pummelled by rapid fire bullets. Her body immediately entered into convulsions as the tiny lead bullets tore through her figure. Had she been in her right mind, this kind of movement (which resembled something of a spastic dance) would have repulsed her. Unfortunately, she wasn't in her right mind. Well, perhaps that should be rephrased. 'Her right mind wasn't in her.'

While the main focus for the gunshot wounds was her abdomen, one of the 9mm bullets had managed to land on the left side of her head, tearing out a portion of her skull and spattering the floor with her brains.

If it were any consolation, at least she was able to die whilst thinking about the people she loved.

"Get down!" arose Beau's hoarse shout.

Grabbing hold of Lauren by her arm, he proceeded to drag her to the side, out of the line of fire and behind a large oak tree.

They failed, however, to escape unharmed. During the dragging process, Lauren's left leg had flailed to the side, into the path of an oncoming bullet. Tearing into the flesh of her thick calf, the small lead round proceeded to gouge out approximately thirty grams of flesh from her leg.

Bursting outwards, a thick stream of crimson drowned the twigs and dead leaves in it's copper scented horror.

The entire scene reminded Lauren of some bad horror film. Or better yet, a bad horror novel.

But, unlike a horror film, this sight was accompanied with pain. Burning, searing, unadulterated pain. Spreading up her leg, like rapidly infecting poison.

"Fuck!" Beau shouted, laying his eyes upon Lauren's wound, just as he pulled out his gun from the waistband of his trousers.

Tears streaming from her eyes, Lauren bit down on her lip so hard that she drew blood.

Firing a retaliation shot from his gun, around the tree, he grunted: "You okay?"

What the fuck was he doing? Of course she wasn't okay! Alice was dead- Oh fuck, look at all that blood- and Lauren had been shot in the leg. No fucking way that Lauren was alright!

Shaking her head from side to side, Lauren continued to chomp down on her flesh. Releasing her lip, she gasped for breath and began to stutter: "N-n...o..." She was trembling. "B-B...Beau...?"

After firing another shot around the tree trunk, he turned towards her. She had since sunk to the floor. Her left leg was splayed in front of her, the blood continuously spewing forth.

"What is it?" he asked, continuing to return fire. Under his breath, she could hear him whispering: "Shit, shit, shit...!"

"It h-hurtsss..." she whimpered, tears rolling down her cheeks.

"Take off your blazer and wrap it round it!" he suddenly blurted out, again firing blindly into the trees. This time, his gunshot prompted a response from their assailant. The same typewriter-tapping sound filled their ears, accompanied by the splintering of several trees surrounding them. One bullet even managed to tear through the corner of the oak they were hiding behind.

Shouting over the sound of machine gun fire, Beau managed to tell Lauren: "We need to stop the bleeding as soon as possible! If you continue to bleed like that, you're going to die!" He shot around the oak again, in the general direction of where he assumed their invisible assailant to be.

"A-Alice is dead...isn't she...?" Lauren stuttered painfully, as she held down her blazer, over her torn flesh.

Beau didn't say a word. Again the machine gun fire crackled through the air.

"I...'m...going t-t-to die...aren't I...?"

"No, you're not!" Beau shouted, shooting around the tree twice more. There was a metallic click as he pulled the trigger a third time. He was out of bullets.

"I...I want my mum..." she sobbed, more tears streaming down her face. "I want my mu-"

Her head was torn apart. In the moment she had started sobbing, Lauren had leant to her left, exposing her head around the edge of the tree. In that moment, the mystery shooter had open fired again.

In an explosion of dirt, sawdust and blood; the ground, several trees and Lauren's skull were blasted to bits by 9mm bullets.

"Fuck!" Beau screamed as he finished reloading his gun. "You fucking asshole!"

Closing his eyes, Beau grimaced. As much as he hated to just leave their bodies behind...

_BANG! _

Firing a shot around the oak that he was taking cover behind, he started to sprint in the opposite direction from where Alice had died.

Scooping up Lauren's duffle bag in his left hand, he began to zig-zag through the trees, occasionally shooting towards his guessed direction of where the enemy was.

_BLAM! _

The sound of a single shot echoed behind him. What the fuck was going on? Surely their shooter wasn't checking to see if the girls were still alive?

_BLAM! _

Again the gunfire echoed through the trees.

Still Beau ran.

No machine gun fire followed him. Perhaps he had lost the shooter in the trees?

Continuing to sprint, Beau put his endurance (formed through years of playing rugby) to the test. Constantly altering his movement pattern, he made sure that anyone chasing him would have no way of having a clear shot.

Only after ten minutes of moving as fast as he could, did he slow down. At a guess, he was probably on the opposite side of the hill he had pointed out to the girls earlier. On his right side, the incline of the ground became steeper.

Still running, he made a sharp turn to his right side and began to climb. Swinging sporadically from his shoulder, the two duffle bags began to thump against his back. It would probably leave a bruise but he didn't care. He had to get to a good spot.

It was then that he felt something tug at his leg.

Looking down, he managed to identify what it was that had caught him.

It was a length of fishing wire.

**26 STUDENTS REMAINING**


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 21:

What the fuck was fishing wire doing in a place like this?

Looking up from the ground, Beau's eyes opened wide. In front of him was a student. Clad in a jet black suit, the student's large frame stood out in contrast from the green and brown background. The student was holding a pistol in his hand. A Russian model. Makarov.

"Will?" Beau muttered, raising an eyebrow.

"Don't give me an excuse to shoot you, dude," Will said, his finger twitching slightly against the trigger. "You put away your gun, and we're cool."

Realising that he was still holding the gun that had previously belonged to Alice, Beau pocketed the piece and looked up at Will, who was currently at an elevated position of about four meters up the hill.

Noticing the blood spattered across the bottom of Beau's white dress shirt, Will pointed and said: "How'd you get that?" Still he didn't lower his gun.

"A while ago...those gunshots..." Beau began. "Lauren and Alice... They were killed. I was with them ... Just barely got away..."

They stood there in silence for a few seconds. Noticing blood (barely visible against the black material) decorating Will's blazer sleeve, Beau uttered: "How'd you get that?"

"I found a body," Will explained. "When I checked to see if they were alive, I got blood on me."

"Who was it...?"

"Jake," Will elaborated.

Recalling how he had encountered the corpse of Jake Booth outside the school, Beau nodded, before saying: "You mind if I join you?"

"Alright, come on up," Will said, hesitantly. He lowered his Russian pistol, slipping it into his holster, strapped to his belt. "Watch your feet. There's wire strung up all around here."

Upon reaching a small clearing among the trees and ferns, Beau let out a small whistle. Even in this dire situation, he could afford to be impressed.

Positioned around the clearing, several dozen branches had been stretched across gaps in the tree line, providing cover in the form of leaves. Periodically spaced, were several gaps in the cover, allowing for good visibility.

Walking across his clearing, Will stooped down at the base of a tree and picked up a small empty can. Lifting the can up, he proceeded to pull on the attached wire, until it became taut, before wrapping it around the metal cylinder and placing it atop a branch.

"Home made alarm system," Will explained. "There's a wire strung out in a twenty meter radius. Anyone touches it, the can falls." He turned back towards Beau, his long curly hair swinging around his face. "It's how I picked up on you."

"Battle Royale?" Beau questioned, sitting down and leaning against a tree.

"Yep," Will responded, taking up residence against a tree opposite Beau, next to his duffle bag.

"Well at last reading is good for something," grinned the former rugby star.

Will stopped his light hearted demeanour for a second. Casting his eyes towards the floor, he asked: "Have you seen Emma yet?"

"No...not yet..." Beau said, casting his mind back to his girlfriend. He felt kind of ashamed of himself. Not once since the game began had he thought of her safety. Sure he had thought ABOUT her, but he never really been concerned as to her safety (Little did he know that she was already dead). "I...I considered trying to find her but... I thought that moving around might get me killed... And knowing her, she'd probably be staying put."

"You were more focussed on protecting those girls?"

"Yeah..." Beau winced as he remembered. "But now...they're dead..."

"I'd have thought that you'd be more shaken up," Will said, picking up his pencil from it's former position on the floor and proceeding to twirl it around his fingers. The tone of his voice was somber. Almost as if he were scolding his friend.

Beau's expression changed. Thinking back to the two girls, an uncomfortable churning presented itself in his stomach. He felt slightly sick.

"I...I don't want to think about it..." Beau began. "I think I'm just trying to forget about it."

"Who did you say you were with again?" Will said, changing the tone of the conversation and raising an eyebrow.

"Lauren and Alice..." Beau muttered.

"Which Lauren and Alice?" Will persisted, picking up his map from the floor and flipping it over. "There's two of them in this game. Loren Farren or Lauren Hatch "

"Hatch."

Will ticked off the name from his list. "Alice Woode or Alice Wright?"

"Woode."

Again, will put another check mark on the list.

"What are you doing?" Beau questioned, his gaze narrowing towards Will's map.

"Helps me remember who is still out there," Will informed. "I was going to wait for the noon announcement, but it's better to eliminate the names of people who could attack me, earlier."

Will's logic was sound, but something about ticking off the names of deceased classmates irked Beau. It just didn't seem right.

Then, something popped into Beau's head, that he had to voice: "Did you hear the gunfire from when Lauren and Alice were killed?"

Will paused, as if he were thinking about what to say. Rubbing his chin, which now sported a slight stubble to it, he began to speak: "Yes." A plain and simple response. Almost blunt.

"And you didn't try to help?" Beau persisted.

"A popular tactic for people who are serious about playing is to sit an wait. When they hear sounds of fighting, they move towards it and kill the survivors. Those who are serious are usually alone so they don't sleep. They keep the fights short to save energy. They wait for it to end and kill the left overs. Simple but effective." He placed the map on the floor and looked up at Beau. "No way was I gonna risk meeting one of the big game players."

Again, sound logic, but something still didn't seem right with Beau.

"But you have a gun," Beau said. "It's a good weapon."

"You think people that have been killing everyone they come across won't have guns?" Will said, sighing slightly as he looked down at his Makarov, strapped to his belt. "Best case scenario, they have one, and a bunch of crap. Most likely, though, they have a fuckload of guns."

Beau let out a deep sigh. In the end, it came down to the fact that Will wanted to survive. It was no different from everybody else.

But, surely not everybody wanted to kill people. There were, at most, three people that actually wanted to kill, that wanted to be a part of this insane fucking game. But...

"Why do you think people are killing each other?" Beau questioned, putting his thoughts into words.

"A number of reasons," Will began, placing his map and pencil on the floor and leaning backwards. "Fear is one thing. Some people are thinking: 'If I don't kill people, they'll kill me'. Another thing is just not wanting to die. Self preservation. Someone has to die every 24 hours or we all die. And, some are just killing for fun."

"What kind of sick freak would be killing for fun?" Beau questioned.

"The hell if I know," Will said, shrugging his shoulders. "That or they just don't care. Actually I think that's worse than if they're doing it for fun. If someone is just doing it because there's nothing better to do. Just because it's the path of least resistance."

The analogy made Beau's head spin. The fact that Will had thought out people's reactions to The Program, was quite impressive, however, it may have just been something he picked up from Battle Royale. In any case, he was right. If there was someone out there who was just- that's right just- killing because there was nothing better to do, it would scare the shit out of him to meet him (or her).

"I'm actually kind of glad that I ran into you," Will smirked. "Former army cadet. Trained in handling of firearms. Probably the most physically fit male student."

Beau chuckled. It was true. If he stayed with Will, their combined efforts could probably ensure them an extended stay in The Program.

"We stay together, we're unstoppable," Will said, returning the chuckle. "And even if we don't survive, we'll give the audience one Hell of a fuckin' show!"

That's right! Up until just now, Beau had forgotten that The Program was being aired on television. The broadcast was staggered, so considering they were halfway through the first day, his and Will's conversation was probably going to be aired on the sixth episode.

It made him feel sick that he'd actually take the time to figure this out.

"But..." Beau sighed. "I don't remember seeing any cameras all the time I've been moving around. I know it's broadcast on TV, but how do they get the footage?"

"It's all hidden camera footage," Will explained. "The same kinds of cameras used to film wildlife. Disguised as trees, rocks, logs...Birds!" He pointed up towards a tree above them. "Like that one there."

Sitting atop a branch, overlooking the clearing, was a small bluetit.

"There's a camera inside that," he grinned. "I checked it out earlier. In it's eyes."

"Why didn't you destroy it?" Beau asked, still staring uneasily at the fake bird.

Reaching up and nervously touching his metal collar, Will began to explain: "These collars won't just detonate if we're caught in a 'dead zone' or the time limit expires." In response to this, Beau nervously fingered the steel band around his own neck. "If we cause trouble or try to escape too much, they'll explode then."

"How'd you know?"

"The last series of episodes that aired before our..." He paused and grinned. "participation. Some kid tried to take out every camera he came across. Needless to say, he was killed."

Beau grimaced. So the coordinators of this game had no qualms about killing contestants themselves (Duh! Of course they fucking didn't! Remember how Matt was shot in the head before The Program officially began).

"I don't particularly want to die because I don't want people to see me."

* * *

Looking up, Steph (Female Student #13) removed her thumb from her mouth. Standing above her was a relatively short male student. He was thin and his eyes were both sunken and bulbous, like some kind of insect. His mousey brown hair was so thin and dishevelled that it hung limply across his forehead.

It was Joe Thompson (Male Student #18).

But...What did he just say?

He always seemed so nice! He was in her history class (assuming that she actually showed up at school). She occasionally met him at parties. At his party at his house, back in November, she had even met his mum (this, while strange, was an indication that the thought she could trust him).

But why did he just say that?

In his hands was a shotgun. A sawed-off Remington M31 Pump-Action Shotgun. Had Will Pryer been there, he would have been able to identify it as the same gun used by the infamous Shogo Kawada in the novel Battle Royale.

"Didn't you hear me?" he grinned, thrusting the muzzle of the gun towards Steph's face.

"B-but..." she stammered, her large blue eyes filled with confusion.

"It's alright," he grinned, his eyes wide with some kind of madness. "You're already on your knees. Not much more effort needed."

She didn't want to. She didn't want to do anything like that! This game was already bad enough. She didn't want to make the experience even worse.

"N...no...!" she muttered, her words caught in her throat like bile.

"What was that?" he said, his small teeth exposed in an 'aww shucks' shit eating grin. "I thought you were used to doing these kind of things. Not much of a change. Just open up."

Closing her eyes and looking to the side, she gritted her teeth. Again, she began to cry.

There was a faint sound, accompanying the rustling of the trees. It sounded like a zipper being undone.

She threw up a little in her mouth. (Despite the apparent severity of the situation she couldn't help but remember a quote from a movie: "You know, in some countries, they only eat vomit. I never been there, but I read about it... In a book.")

She didn't dare open her eyes. There was no way that she was going to do what this sick person wanted.

She felt some kind of hard cylinder press against her head. It was the barrel of his shotgun.

"Unless you want your brains to decorate this little clearing, I'd advise you to open up," his harsh words echoing in her head.

The bile rising in her throat, she made up her mind. It was Steph's only choice.

Tears still streaming from her closed eyes, her jaw slowly began to lower.

An expression on bliss passed along Joe's face as the terrified girl completed his desired action.

"Now keep that up..." he grunted, reaching out with his left hand and grasping a handful of her hair, in order to keep her in position.

It was then that something happened. Something he didn't expect. Something painful.

Letting out a squeal of pain, he stumbled backwards. His shotgun flailing out to his right hand side. Reflex took over and his finger tweaked the trigger.

As the gun let of a massive explosion of sparks from the muzzle, something else shot into the air.

Blood.

Spraying into the air, the bright red liquid splashed against the surrounding trees.

Taking her chance, Steph scrambled to the side and grabbed hold of her duffle bag. Her face soaked in blood, she opened her mouth and spat to the side. Now immersed in the growing pool of blood, like an island in a crimson lake, was the severed tip of Joe's penis.

"Aaaaaarggghhhhhhh!" roared Joe's furious cry of pain and anger. "You fuggin' bitch!"

Scrambling after the terrified female student, Joe swung the shotgun upwards and pumped a new shell into the firing dock. A plastic red casing was ejected from the side of the gun as he did so.

Aiming the sight towards Steph's back, he pulled the trigger, while staggering after her. His blood soaked trousers were sticking to his legs.

The shot tore through the trees annihilating a large portion of a willow tree, that Steph had just dodged behind.

"Come back here!" he shouted, continuing to run in his uncomfortable fashion.

Stumbling past the willow, he looked around himself. She had since exited his field of vision. Where the fuck had she gone?

His entire body suddenly locked up. A burning pain assaulted his neck as his limbs suddenly flailed to his sides. It were as if his entire body had entered into spastic convulsions. Actually. That was exactly what happened.

Stepping out from behind the tree Steph raised her supplied weapon into the light. It was a taser.

Hurriedly stooping down, she grasped hold of Joe's shotgun and pumped the next shell into the chamber.

Pointing it down towards the boy's head, she gritted her teeth and basically spat out: "Fuck you!"

_BANG! _

**25 Students Remaining**


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 22:

"Ahahaha!" Mr O laughed, slapping his thighs and rocking back in his reclining leather chair. "Now THAT was classic!"

"Sir?" questioned the SDF soldier standing next to him.

"Boy tries to get known slut to give him head and she bites his cock off!" the bald instructor laughed, wiping a tear from his eye. "Irony, thy name is The Program."

Rising from his seat and stepping around the edge of the large wooden desk, Mr O walked up behind another soldier who was currently sat at a computer. He had headphones on.

Tapping the man on the shoulder, Mr O broke into a grin and pointed up towards the 50 inch screen fixed in the centre of the numerous monitors on the wall.

"Can I have the student list up there?" he smiled, his yellow teeth shining between his lips.

The soldier began to rapidly tap on the keyboard in front of him.

"With some visual aid please!" the instructor added, his smile broadening.

Within a matter of seconds, the screen now displayed forty images of the students. Their names were in large block capitals beneath their respective photos.

"Who's up for a little wager!" the teacher beamed, swinging his arms out to his sides and spinning on the spot. Several of the soldiers were staring inquisitively at him. "Taking all bets! Who do you think is going to win?"

Pointing over at the soldier, still standing next to his desk, he broke into a grin.

"What're your thoughts?" he exclaimed.

"That Dean boy, sir," the SDF officer answered, matter-of-factly. "The transfer student."

"Very nice choice," Mr O beamed, his bald head shining in the light of the ceiling panels and his voice cutting through the hum of the generator. "Swift, effective. And completely amoral." Pointing up towards the picture of the wild haired young man, he exclaimed: "Get some numbers up there! £50 on Dean to win, courtesy of Mr Sullivan here!"

The suggested amount appeared below Dean's name on the screen.

"What about you?" the psychopathic teacher gleefully shouted, coming up behind one of the soldiers still seated at a computer, and placing his hands on his shoulder.

"Um...Will?" the soldier responded uneasily.

"Come now, sir," Mr O grinned. "There are two Wills. Be specific now."

"Well obviously not the one with the spoon," the soldier elaborated, gaining some confidence. "The one with that stockpile of weapons."

"Another £50 on Mr William Pryer this time, if you please!" the instructor shouted out, turning back towards the screen. "I like the way you think! Armed up to his eyeballs and with in-depth knowledge on game dynamics. A favourite to win if I'd ever seen one!"

"What about Beau?" arose the voice of a Special Defence Force soldier from across the room.

"Hmmm..." hummed Mr O, rubbing his hand across his shaved head. "Trained in the handling of firearms; probably the most athletic of the contestants. And now teamed up with Will. He may end up being killed in his sleep, but I'd call you a fool for not putting money on him. £50 on Beau, if you would be so kind!"

Spinning on the spot, he swung his arms to his sides again. Needless to say, all of the SDF personnel thought him insane.

"Anyone backing a young lady?" he gleefully chimed in.

"With all due respect, sir, that Steph girl is the only choice," a young man situated at a computer commented.

"How so, soldier boy?"

"She's out for blood now," the man smirked. "After this first one, I want to bet that she will kill more."

"You willing to put money in that?" Mr O grinned, his pink shirt billowing around his large body as he strode forwards.

"Sure."

"My good sir, put some money on little miss Night!"

A small £50 became visible below Steph's photo. "Now am I forgetting anyone?"

"Sir?" arose another voice.

"Yes?"

"What about that Jarve boy?" the soldier stated.

"Elaborate."

"He's smart," the SDF employee began, looking up from his computer monitor and removing his headphones. "His plan to hack our system might not work, now he explained it to that Emma girl, but he could put those brains to other uses. Plus he has the collar tracking device."

"Hmm...Well stranger things have happened..."

* * *

Jordan Jarve (Male Student #16, and Transfer Student) gritted his teeth as he looked down at the device he had clasped in his hand. The shimmering display screen was now highlighting a single star icon. It was an indication of his collar.

In front of him was a large bush. He was sure that there was no-one on the other side. It was safe to proceed.

Pushing through the leaves and twigs, Jordan entered into the field on the other side of the large shrub.

The first thing that hit him was the stench. Almost immediately, he was assaulted by the coppery reek of blood. The smell, however, was different from when he was marched into the classroom to be faced with the already dead student slumped in the corner (was his name Matt Halsmon?). The difference was in the quantity. There was enough blood splashed around the area to fill a bathtub.

Strewn across the grassy landscape in front of him were several bodies. Three.

Why the fuck hadn't his tracking device picked these u-

He suddenly noticed something. None of the recently discovered corpses were wearing the telltale metal collars of Program contestants.

Well this could probably be due to the fact that they were all missing their heads. This could have also served as an explanation for the copious amounts of blood.

Jordan resisted the urge to vomit. But only barely.

What kind of sick freak would actually do something like this?

His thoughts were cut of by a static charged crackled emanating from a small speaker on the side of his collar.

* * *

_FZZTT "Hello there ladies and (not so) gentlemen! This is your beloved homeroom teacher coming in with the lunch time role call! _

_The first casualty of the morning is little Miss Beks Donn, Female Student #4. Next, we have Male Student #10, Mr Rajan Lail. And now, for a Program record, Male Students #5, #9 and #13, Jeremy, Luke and Jonah, all rack in for our first ever triple kill! I'm so excited I can barely think straight! Next to clock into the waiting line for a new coffin is our first transfer student casualty, Male Student #17 Brynn Jones. Then we have Miss Emma Kynde, Female Student #6. And then...oh, this must be some kind of record. First a triple and then a double kill. Female Students #s 9 and 10. Finally, we round things of with my personal favourite kill of the series, Mr Joe Thompson! Male Student #18! _

_Ten students in six hours! Just when I thought that you had no hope of redemption, you pull this out of the bag! You've made me so proud! _

_Now keep your ears up for the Dead Zones!" FZZT_

**25 STUDENTS REMAINING **


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter 23:

The gunshot that had echoed through the trees before the 12:00 announcement had reached Will and Beau. Already, it was getting to be a familiar sound.

Will had finished crossing off the Dead Zones from his map. Their zone wasn't announced.

After hearing of his girlfriend's death, Beau had become quiet. Almost painfully so.

Smirking to himself, Will thrust his hand inside his bag and turned towards his new companion before saying: "I know you don't, but you wanna smoke?" He broke into a chuckle.

Beau normally detested smoking. Will as well. But, in times like these, they needed something to calm themselves down.

"Sure," he muttered, rising to his knees and moving forwards, holding out his hand.

Tossing the packet and disposable lighter towards his friend, Will said: "You can keep 'em. I got loads."

"Where from?" Beau questioned, pocketing the packet and lighter. "You go to any of the shops in that village?"

"I did have a look round the village, but that's not where I got the smokes from," he laughed. "Brought 'em myself."

"They let you keep your bags?" Beau said, genuine surprise lining his voice.

"Yeah!" the curly haired boy said. "Our bags were on the floor by our desks. I took mine with me when I left. There were...things in it that I needed. You didn't have yours when they gassed us in the ILC so yours wasn't by your desk."

"What were you doing with those cigarettes then?" Beau asked. "I thought you didn't smoke."

"I don't," Will grinned. "I sell 'em. I get them cheap when I go abroad. Bring them back and sell them cheaper than they are in the shops but more than I spent on them. Make myself a bit of money."

Beau laughed.

Leaning across the clearing, Beau was moving to give Will a 'high five'. Sure it was immature and inappropriate, but he felt it was needed.

Suddenly, something caught Beau's eye. Jutting from within the opening of Will's duffle bag, it seemed like the handle of a knife.

"What's that?" Beau suddenly said, pointing towards Will's bag.

Around them, the air suddenly grew still. The rising tension almost suffocating the two boys as they stared across at each other.

Reaching into the bag, Will pulled out an almost ludicrously large blade.

"You mean this?" he asked, raising it into the light and removing the leather sheath. The glinting silver blade was slightly speckled with blood.

"Yeah," Beau's vision thinned, his sight focussing on the knife.

"It's a knife."

"Where'd you get it..." Beau stated, slowly, almost purposefully pronouncing every syllable.

"It's mine."

"It's your weapon, or you already had it before the game started?" Oh, fuck. Now he was calling this madness a game.

"It's my supplied weapon," Will said, locking eyes with Beau.

"Then where'd you get that gun?"

Will paused. "I picked it up."

"Did you kill the person that you picked it up from?" Beau said, sudden unease plaguing his nervous system. His distrust for his friend was growing more and more by the second.

Will didn't say a word.

"So what are you playing for?" Beau persisted, returning to their former topic of conversation. "Fear? Staying alive? Fun? Or do you simply not care?"

Again, Will provided no response.

Beau focussed on Will's duffle bag. Aside from the shape of the water bottles, other items could be visible through the fabric.

"What else do you have in that bag?"

Suddenly, Beau's mind leapt to an insane conclusion. What if Will had killed his companions. What if his friend had mercilessly gunned down the girls. What if the machine gun used to kill them was inside his duffle bag.

Earlier on, when questioned about the blood in his sleeve, Will had told Beau that it was from checking Jake Booth's body. What if he were lying? What if Will had been the one to kill him!

Will himself had stated that he was glad Beau was there. What if he had killed the girls and let him get away, just so that he could trick him into joining him. As he had said, if they were together, they would be unstoppable.

His mind was running into overdrive. It was probably due to a mixture of fatigue, paranoia and the pain felt at the loss of his girlfriend, but his thoughts seemed to make so much sense.

"That sound," Will suddenly said. "You're wondering if something in my bag was responsible for that sound that happened earlier."

Will had caught on to what Beau was thinking. As was typical of a student studying to become a doctor, his logical reasoning was fast. Indisputably so.

"Do you have a machine gun in there?" Beau said harshly, getting to the point.

"You mean, something like this?" Will said, reaching into his bag and pulling out a crude lump of metal. It resembled something like a tin desert box.

Beau's eyes snapped open wide.

It was an Ingram Mac-10 9mm Sub Machine-Gun.

Scrambling to his feet, Beau backed up against Will's makeshift covering camouflage. He could feel the lump in the small of his back where he had tucked Alice's gun into his waistband. But...he wouldn't have enough time to draw it. He was certain that the moment he tried to pull the gun out, Will would fill him so full of lead that he'd be shitting pencils.

"I'm not going to shoot you," Will uttered attempting to calm his friend down.

"Why? Cos u need me!" Beau shouted, attempting to back up even more.

"Keep your voice down...!" Will hissed. "You want people to know we're here? You want us to die...!"

Beau wasn't listening. All his attention was focussed on the duffle bag clasped in his hand. Previously belonging to Lauren, it was his only piece of kit that he didn't need. His own duffle bag held the bullets and the kitchen knife. The only reason that he'd picked it earlier was for the food and water inside it.

Fuck it!

Heaving, Beau threw the bag with all his might towards Will. Upon it's collision, a clanking sound was heard as the 'psycho' dropped the Ingram.

Now was his chance.

Sprinting with all his might, the former star athlete tore through the shrubbery and disappeared into the trees.

There was another clattering as he caught the wire and pulled the can from the tree branch.

**25 STUDENTS REMAINING**


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter 24:

Kris Wynnas (Male Student #3) was still sitting up in his tree. Sure he had moved around a bit and changed branches several times, but it was still the same tree.

Despite the fact that it was an item already readily available in the designated 'playing area', and several students had already scavenged some for personal use, his designated weapon was a reel of fishing wire.

That wasn't to say that he hadn't found some ingenious uses for it.

Much like Will, he had created something of a homemade alarm system. Due to his elevated position, however, the use of a can wouldn't have been wise. A breeze could knock it off. Instead, after threading the wire through the tree line below him, he had tied the end of it to his pinky finger on his right hand.

Another use that he found for the wire was to repeatedly plait and thread it, in order to create something akin to a garrotte. He was sure that he would be needing it sometime in the future. After all of those names read off, he was sure that someone would try to kill him.

He suddenly felt his line tug on his finger.

There was someone below him.

* * *

Lor Farren (Female Student #8) was staggering through the tree-line. The heel of one of her shoes was missing and her skirt was still hiked up. Around her face, her long dark brown hair bounced and swayed as she ran.

In her hand, the shine of metal illuminated the gun that she carried. Walther PPK 7.65mm Pistol.

Suddenly, her leg was caught on something. It appeared to be a length of fishing wire.

Looking down, her eyes, still blurred from tears, managed to pick out the wire, hooked on her leg, just below a hole in her tights.

"Hello?" arose a voice from above her head.

Jerking her head upwards so violently that her hair swung behind her in an over-exaggerated fashion, Lor's glasses slipped across her face. Sitting up in a tree was the figure of a boy.

"K-Kris...?" she stuttered, squinting her eyes and looking up into the canopy.

"Loren?" arose the response. "Is that you?"

"Y-yes...!" stammered Lor, tears streaming down her face. "Help me! P-please!" She was screeching, now. A small blob of saliva flew from her mouth as Lor began to bawl, screaming out her plea.

"Shhhh...!" he hissed, indicating for her to be quiet. "Someone could hear you...!"

"Please!" she mouthed, scrunching her face up in terror and despair.

His eyes cast down towards the floor, Kris let out a sigh as he said: "Come on up..."

Reaching down, he clasped her outstretched hand and pulled her up onto his branch.

Straddling the branch, with one leg either side, Lor's calves dangled down into the air. Her gun was tucked into the front waistband of her tight-fitting skirt.

Sitting across from her, Kris' eyes (appearing large, due to his ludicrously thick glasses) assessed Lor's face, contorted from terror. In all respects she was absolutely beautiful. Her prominent, high, cheekbones provided her face with a model-esq. appearance. This, coupled with her thick, full lips and porcelain like skin ensured her the ability to stop any man in their tracks. Even if she were in a bar, filled with girls dressed in the most revealing clothes possible, every male in the room would immediately have their gaze drawn towards her.

It wasn't just her face. Her body, while petite, was slim and curvy. With a torso that pinched in at the waist, her large breasts and hips were accentuated all the more. Still dangling from either side of the branch, her legs were toned, shapely, and long.

But now...Her eyes, deep, brown and usually so full of life and energy, were puffed up from crying. Her nose, small and cute, was red, another side effect from her repeated sobbing and sniffing. And her clothes were torn, throwing the apparently perfect aspects of her body off balance.

She looked slightly unhinged. It made him feel slightly sad.

It was actually lucky that he had found her. They were friends. Lunchtimes and breaks at school were usually spent with the two of them playfully winding each other up. Occasionally, it escalated to playfully 'beating each other up'. Now that he looked back upon it, it all seemed very childish.

He would be lying if he said that he didn't find her attractive. If he said that he didn't want her to just be a friend. But, she had a boyfriend. He wasn't about to try anything. It was too disrespectful.

"Is...uh... Is that your weapon?" he asked pointing towards the gun that was still sticking out from her skirt.

She nodded her head up and down rapidly. Her long hair, once again, whipped around her head.

What on earth was he doing. He'd just found someone that he could trust and he couldn't even think of anything to say. It was just pathetic.

All of a sudden, instinct took over. Reaching out, he clasped her around the shoulders and pulled her into a tight hug.

Even though she had been running around the Great British countryside for the past eight hours, her hair still held the faint smell of shampoo. It was...nice.

The instant Kris pulled her into the hug, she felt better. She felt secure. She felt safe. Although she was missing her boyfriend, her Ashley, this was nice. It was just what she needed. Kris was her friend. He was there to protect her.

"Th-thank you..." she whispered, freeing her hands from in front of her chest and returning the hug. Digging her fingers into his back, she closed her eyes as she gripped the black material of his blazer.

She thought back to her friends. Her friends who would always sit around and laugh. They would most often break into discussion about some kind of book series or another. They all loved Harry Potter, and despised Twilight. Listening to them trashing down on the vampire series always brought a smile to her face.

Oh! she thought, her mind thinking back to the series that they had just started. She wouldn't be able to find out how the Hunger Games ended (it was a good series, but she couldn't help but remember Will Pryer's words as he told them "It's just a tween rip off of Battle Royale and The Program. Who the fuck would 'find love' when fighting for their life?")

**25 STUDENTS REMAINING**


	26. Chapter 26

Chapter 25:

Ryan Raroof (Male Student #2) poked his head out of a small shrub. While still aggravated as to the location of The Program, he had adjusted his attire to suit the situation. Being in attendance at the same school as Beau for the past four years, he too was combat trained, and he was putting his knowledge to good use. Needless to say, he had discarded his blazer and tie.

A calm expression passing across his brown face, his stubble-lined jaw rotated slightly. His hair, shiny and black, fell across the left side of his forehead in a swooping fringe. It was strangely neat. He was probably the only contestant, since the game began (even out of the girls), that felt he could still take care of his hair.

Glancing down at his watch (no way he would use the government supplied crap) he checked the time. He had synced his watch to Mr O's announcements so he was sure that it was accurate. His watch was a very expensive model. At a rough estimate, it cost around £300 (roughly $600, depending on exchange rates).

Tightening his grip around the polished steel handle of the saucepan lid, he advanced further into the undergrowth.

For some innate reason, he had a feeling that someone was up ahead of him. Somewhere hiding in the shrubs. He would need to be careful. After this many hours in The Program, people would definitely be unhinged.

It was then that he heard it. Blasting through the landscape, the telltale dry pop of a small calibre round. He'd heard it several times on the firing range.

"What the fu-!" he began, but caught himself. He normally didn't like swearing.

Ducking behind a nearby tree, he pressed his back against the gnarled surface of the trunk.

He couldn't believe this. Someone had just shot at him without warning!

Quickly peeking around the tree, his eyes focussed on the person who had shot at him. Relatively short and squat (yet still well built, indicating athleticism), the figure sported waist length blonde hair that was tied behind her head. Pinned to the lapel of her navy blazer (now grimy with dirt) was a large silver badge. It was their head girl: Louise Blare (Female Student #3).

The gun in her hands was a Czechoslovakian CZ 75 Semi-Automatic Pistol.

Hey now! he thought. Aren't you supposed to do what is right for the students? Why'd you just shoot at me, bitch?

If he were back at school, on an ordinary day, and someone asked him what he would do in this situation, he would respond by saying: "I'd say, listen bitch!" This would be accompanied by the action of pinching his middle finger and thumb together and pointing them forwards. However, there was no way that he could do this now. If he made any sudden moves, he was sure that she would shoot again.

"Don't shoot!" he called out, around the tree. "I'm not armed!"

Again, the dry pop echoed through the tree line. The bullet gouged out a small portion of the tree trunk that he was hidden behind.

* * *

Lies! There was no way that he wasn't armed! Where was his supplied weapon? Huh? He was lying to her! The moment she lowered her gun, he would attack her! She needed to shoot! Shoot! Shoot!

Once again, Louise saw the image of death. Hovering next to the tree that she'd just seen Ryan duck behind. Letting out a screech, she open fired again. The muzzle of her gun lit up with a small flame. Another portion of the tree was blasted away.

She wanted to go home! She wanted to get out of this...this...madness! She wanted to go home! She wanted to go home! She wanted to go home! She wanted her mum! She wanted her dad! Mummy! Daddy! Don't let this happen to me! I want to come home! Someone help me!

She fired again.

Still the ghostly shadow of death loomed. Glinting in the midday light, the blade of it's scythe glared in a bright metallic flash.

But...

All of a sudden, the blade of death morphed. Still the shine of metal was there but it looked different. It looked somewhat like a saucepan lid.

Flying towards her...

* * *

He needed to stop her from shooing. From making so much noise. If it continued like this, one of the 'big game' players were going to hear the noise and show up.

But there was no way that he could do that without hurting her. However... If this were to carry on, he would end up dying...

He'd made up his mind! He would try to get the gun away from her! He'd use the delay right after she fired.

The dry pop sounded in his ears for a fourth time.

Taking his chance, he stepped out from behind his cover and heaved with all his might.

Much like Beau, he too had been on the rugby team. While he was much larger in size and lacked Beau's flare for natural athleticism, there was one thing that he could definitely count on. His strength. Trained in Khenpoe and being able to pitch a 9 meter throw on the shot putt, Ryan was confident that he could disable her shooting.

Launching the saucepan lid towards Louise, in a manner similar to throwing a discus, he aimed for the gun in her hand.

The lid missed. While his intended target was her hand holding the gun, the flat metal surface whirled higher than he intended and caught Louise full in the face.

Knocked backwards by the force of the collision, Louise collapsed into the undergrowth and dropped her gun. She had been knocked unconscious.

Sprinting over towards the collapsed Head Girl, Ryan stooped down and picked up the CZ75.

But... Now what was he supposed to do? If she woke up and he was still there, she would probably attack him again. And if he just left her, then there was always the chance that she would be killed by someone who came across her.

It was then that he heard it. A faint rustling. Someone was wading through the shrubs and bushes nearby. If he was still there when they arrived, he was sure that he'd be attacked again.

Hesitantly glancing back at Louise's body, he began to sprint through the trees.

**25 STUDENTS REMAINING**


	27. Chapter 27

Chapter 26:

Although she had been knocked unconscious, Louise felt as if she were waking up from a deep slumber.

Oh no. She'd probably overslept while studying for some test. Yesterday, she was sure that she had that meeting with senior management, and that was a Wednesday. So did that mean that today was Thursday? No. She remembered that Thursday was the day that her and Robyn ate lunch with their friends (it was rare for them to do so, so she was sure that today couldn't be Thursday). She remembered how Kris had been playfully winding Gina and Lor up. Yes. That was right. So then today must be Friday. Let's see...first period on Friday, she had Psychology with Mr Hartley and-

Wait! Her thoughts suddenly snapped into place. It all came flooding back to her. Waking up in that classroom. Being greeted by that sadistic prick in the pink shirt. Finding out that she was in The Program. Getting out of the school and finding the bodies of Jake Booth and Gina! The ominous figure of death constantly following her! Finding the gun in her bag-

The gun!

She sat up.

She needed to find the gun! If she didn't then she would be killed! She needed to use it to stop people! To kill them before they killed her!

_BANG!_

She felt a blow against the back of her head. It was the last sensation that she ever felt.

* * *

Female Student #20 (and transfer student), Danielle Elsmon was terrified. She had been wandering around the designated area nonstop for the past nine hours. Sure, she was more likely to bump into someone dangerous if she moved around, but that wasn't her thought process. The way she saw it was: Hey, if I move around, then I will avoid people, and I may find someone who will help me.

As her hair, slightly longer than shoulder length, bobbed and swayed around her face, she continued to stagger through the trees.

After being out and moving for that long, needless to say that she was thoroughly fatigued. She was beginning to feel light headed and drowsy. Her lips were trembling.

She just wanted to find someone. Someone she could trust. If she had been in her own school, then she would have been able meet up with one of her friends. But no. She was a transfer student. Included as an extra in this psychotic fucking game! There was no way that any of the students at this school would trust her. To them, she was just someone who could kill them without a second thought, because she didn't know them. But that wasn't he case. She didn't want to kill anyone. She just wanted someone to help her. Someone to talk to. What if she could find a girl? A nice girl. Yeah. Someone like her that she could trust. But, what if they tried to kill her. What if the person she found made out that they could be trusted, but killed her when her back was turned?

Her finger twitched against the trigger of the gun in her hand. A Browning. A 9mm weapon.

It was then that she saw something. Someone was laying in the undergrowth, several meters ahead of her. Was this her chance? Was this her chance to join up with someone that she could trust?

But what if they were already dead? What if this person was one of the students whose name had been read off in one of the two announcements?

Moving closer, she could hear the person's heavy breathing. They were alive.

All of a sudden, the girl in the undergrowth sat up.

This sudden movement prompted Danielle to emit a small scream, and reflexively pull the trigger of her gun. The back of the girl's head exploded.

Danielle had killed her.

**24 STUDENTS REMAINING**


	28. Chapter 28

Chapter 27:

Tom Staring (Male Student #15) was sat propped up against a tree. He was still in denial as to his inclusion in The Program. He just couldn't believe that he was actually there, being made to kill his classmates. The people who he spent practically every day with. It was just so surreal.

It only seemed like yesterday (which in fact, it was) that he had been sitting in Ryan's car with his friends, just driving aimlessly. Sure they were all old enough to drive, but Ryan was one of the the only ones who was lucky enough to actually own a car. They were just driving down the road, the music turned up full blast (it would have either been a song by Shaggy- or Shag-geh, as Ryan would say it- or a tune by Hollywood Undead) and singing along to it. Occasionally, Ryan would slow down alongside a group of people and wind down the passenger window, whereby Beau would stick his head out and scream at the top of his lungs, terrifying the group. Will would high-five Beau, Ryan would chuckle, he would laugh so hard that he thought he would almost cry, as would be the case with Jon (Jon was probably the luckiest student in the entire of England at that point, being the only male student from their school not chosen to participate in The Program).

The entire experience now, just seemed so surreal. Sure, he was being smart with how he conducted himself, but he still couldn't believe that he had been included in The Program.

As one of the only students at their school to actually converse with Will on the subject of The Program, he had quite a good idea of how things worked. He figured that if he stayed still and only moved in accordance with 'Dead Zones' then he would be earning himself an extended stay.

Of course, that would have been the logical move anyway. Were he to move around, he would be spotted instantly. At a standing height of six foot seven inches, he was by far the tallest student that The Program had ever accommodated. If he even dared to stand up, he would be noticed immediately.

As a gust of wind blew past him, his nostrils were filled with the pungent reek of Rapeseed Crop. There was probably a field full of it somewhere in the vicinity.

He sneezed. His Hay-Fever was acting up again.

Looking down at his hand, he couldn't help but let out a comical groan as his gaze fell on his supplied weapon. Derringer .22 Double High Standard Pistol. He figured that he'd barely be able to take down a squirrel with it. Sure, it was a gun. It's cartridge was a magnum. But, it could only load two bullets at a time. It would be okay for a close range shot, but if he were to enter into a gun fight, he reckoned that he'd be killed pretty quickly.

It was rather ironic. Big guy, little gun.

Oh well. His weapon couldn't be helped. Plus it wasn't the worst thing in the world. During one of their conversations, Will had told him that one time, someone was even supplied with a spoon (little did Tom know that the other Will included in this Program had been supplied with that very 'weapon').

He let out a small snicker. The word 'spoon' had brought on a knee-jerk response. He had instinctively thought of the popular Internet meme, and how Will, Mario-oh shit, he was dead now- and Beau would run down the road outside their school screaming at the top of their lungs: "My spoon is too big!"

After thinking so much about his friends, he couldn't help but feel a little sad. To think that these people who he was almost always with were going to die, just felt so wrong to him.

Of course, there was always the issue of himself. He too would probably end up dying.

A small twinge of regret suddenly pulled at him. Regret mixed with the pang of loss.

He thought back to his life at the school. The school that he had only joined in September. The school that probably already gave him one of the best years of his life. He thought back to his classes. Business, Psychology and Maths. The classes that, while he found interesting, he didn't particularly want to take. His interest was in archaeology and anthropology. He really should have taken history as a subject.

History. Will studied history.

That girl also studied history.

If his friends were here, they would probably- well maybe they wouldn't in this dire situation- end up teasing him. 'That girl' was called Alice Kayy (no she wasn't one of the Alices included in The Program. Their school had a lot of girls named Alice). She studied biology, chemistry, history and maths. Alice liked Tom.

That wasn't to say that he didn't like her. She was very pretty. Probably the prettiest girl in the school (Kris would have argued that it was Lor, while Will would have agreed with him-but then again, Will did chase everything in a skirt- and Beau would agree with him, but only quietly, due to him going out with Emma- oh shit, she was dead as well!). Her hair was long and dark brown, and she had named it Aurora (hey, I never said she was normal). She also probably had one of the nicest bodies out of all the girls in the school. He would be called a perv for looking, but every other guy did, so he didn't really care. She was a HUGE fan of Harry Potter. She also loved tall guys. That's where her fascination with him sprung from.

His friends had been dropping subtle hints that he should try to go out with her, or at the very least just sleep with her. Some more subtle than others (Will and a girl called Ashley not included in The Program [come to think of it, Will used to like Ashley] would constantly pester him that he should 'try it on' with her).

He felt a slight regret that now he wouldn't be able to. He also felt another emotion welling inside of himself. It seemed rather out of place. As if, during the madness of The Program, there was no way that he should ever have felt this. He felt...happy.

It was actually rather strange.

As if all the horror and madness surrounding him had managed to allow him to realise his true feelings. He knew that he didn't like Alice in that way. He knew that he would be missing his friends. He knew that he loved his parents, and missed them.

It was nice. It was as if he'd made peace with himself.

But...He couldn't die yet.

Despite being totally content with his own emotions, he felt that he should at least try to survive for as long as possible. He owed everyone that much.

**24 STUDENTS REMAINING**


	29. Chapter 29

Chapter 28:

Jermaine Ossen (Male Student #7) gripped the handle of his hatchet tightly. His shiny cocoa-butter coloured skin gleamed with sweat as he approached the main road. He knew that it was dangerous to be moving around like this, but he had somewhere that he needed to get to.

He'd recently heard gunfire from the depths of the outcrop of trees that he'd taken up residence in. Four shots, followed by a long pause and then a single shot. He needed to get as far away from the assailant as was physically possible.

In front of him was an embankment at least three meters high. At the top of this slope of grass, was the main road that ran the entire of the way along the designated 'playing area'. At his back was the outcrop of trees that he had recently vacated. On the other side of the road that he was approaching, there was a small two story house. Attached to the South facing side was a small farm coop. This is what he was aiming for.

It had been two hours since the noon announcement. The gunshots from earlier occurred about twenty minutes ago. After waiting and assessing the situation he'd decided to move.

Quickly dashing up the slope, he kept low to the ground to ensure that he wasn't seen. Upon reaching the road, he sprinted towards the house.

Once he reached the door, he thrust out his left hand (his right still held the hatchet) and clasped hold of the door knob. The door was unlocked.

He proceeded cautiously. After all, someone may have already entered this house and been using it as a hiding place. After closing the front door behind him (he made sure to turn the knob before he closed it, so as to avoid the clicking sound of the latch sliding into place) he tiptoed down the hallway and checked the front room. There was no-one there.

Advancing further into the house, he passed a small door that was set into the wall, just beneath the staircase. More than likely a small cupboard. He'd reached the kitchen. Filling his nostrils was the faint oder of rotting food. Still laid out on the table were plates, knives, forks and glasses. It reminded him of a story he was told when he was a child. About the famous ship whose crew mysteriously vanished overnight, leaving all of their belongings behind. The remnants of peoples lives just left like this slightly creeped him out.

_Cl-ick..._

The faint sound entered his ears.

"Move and I kneecap you," arose a voice from behind him.

His entire body froze. How on earth had someone managed to sneak up behind him? He'd made sure that he was extra careful and-

Out of the corner of his eye, he was able to see back into the hallway. The cupboard door, beneath the stairs was ajar. Someone had been hiding in there! How could he be so stupid.

But, if the person hadn't killed him yet...did that mean they didn't want to play?

"You drop that axe and we're cool, Jermaine," the voice said again.

Without a second thought, he dropped his hatchet. Landing blade side down, the gleaming metal lodged itself into the floor.

The voice from behind him was familiar. It belonged to-

"Beau?" he questioned, turning around, his hands raised beside his head to indicate that he didn't have any other weapon.

"Yeah," came Beau's solemn reply. In his hand was a large revolver. Colt Python .357 Magnum.

"Why didn't you...?"

"I'm not playing," Beau answered, lowering his gun, but still keeping his finger on the trigger. "I just have to make sure that I don't get duped again."

"What?" Jermaine questioned, raising an eyebrow and looking up at Beau (this was irrelevant, but Beau was about a head taller than him).

"I ran into Will earlier," Beau muttered, his finger still teasing the trigger of his Colt sidearm. "He's playing. Had me fooled quite well though. He killed Lauren and Alice from the shadows and then picked me up later. Figured that I could help him survive."

Jermaine was speechless. While he didn't usually associate with Beau, Will was a mutual friend. He just couldn't believe what he was hearing.

They stood there in silence for several moments.

Eventually, Jermaine broke the silence by asking: "So what do we do now?"

"We wait here, and stay alive..."

**24 STUDENTS REMAINING**


	30. Chapter 30

Chapter 29:

Ademola Atebota (Female Student #11) continued to breathe heavily as she sat, propped up, against a tree. On the floor next to her was her supplied weapon. A long aluminium baseball bat.

After being out of the school building for around ten hours, she was tired. Extremely so.

Not to mention, she was freaked out as Hell. She had, after all, witnessed Will Pryer murder Jake Booth, in front of her eyes. Of course he may have just done it in self defence, but this thought never entered her mind.

She thought that she knew Will. He was a good friend. He wasn't on the level of Tammy (her best friend, who wasn't included in this 'game') but he was a nice guy. Well at least she thought that he was. He was in her classes for Chemistry and Psychology. Sure he was lazy and something about him always seemed zoned out and jaded, but he was good fun. They would constantly wind each other up about one thing or another and if he ever did anything wrong, she would comically respond with: 'Its because you're a boy'. They had the same sense of humour. In fact, they could recite and quote the entire script to every Rush Hour film between the two of them.

However, despite all of this, she still couldn't help but be afraid of him. She couldn't help but suspect him of killing more than Jake.

Breathing heavily, she opened her handbag (she was one of the only students that kept some of her initial belongings) and pulled out a long black tube. Twisting the top, she removed the lid and revealed a short hypodermic needle. Rolling up her sleeve, she plunged the needle into her skin.

Ademola was diabetic.

The question was: Would the game end first, or would her insulin run out?

* * *

"So what did Will say?" Jermaine questioned clasping his hands together in front of his body.

Him and Beau were now situated in the living room of the house. The worn out furniture had a musty smell to it. Not to make him sound ageist, but Jermaine reckoned that the previous owner was probably old.

"He just told me about The Program," came the response. Beau was situated across the room from him in a low armchair. "It were almost as if he was giving me advice on how to win..."

"Well maybe he was?" the dark skinned boy asked, still not quite grasping the idea that the young man with long curly hair could actually kill anyone.

"Maybe, but, I think he was just saying it to get me to trust him... I know for a fact that he killed Jake, and unless there are other people running around with machine guns, then he's the one that killed Lauren and Alice..."

Jermaine sat there in silence for several seconds before he had a thought. "Did he say anything else. Or give you anything?" He was attempting to find logic behind what Will had done. Perhaps he was trying to tell Beau something, but the former rugby star was too wound up to notice.

"Well, he gave me a pack of cigarettes," he began, reaching inside his pocket and realising that he still had the disposable lighter as well.

"You got fags?" Jermaine said, reaching out. "Giss us one. I'm dying for a smoke."

Opening the lid of the carton of cigarettes, Beau pulled out one of them and passed it over, along with the lighter. It was then that he noticed it. Jammed in between the cigarettes and the inside edge of the packet, was a small folded piece of paper. Probably the same one that Mr O had them write 'We will kill' with.

Pulling it from the carton, Beau began to unfold it.

"What's that?" Jermaine inquired, the tip of his cigarette blazing as it hung from his mouth. A thin trail of smoke had begun to snake it's way towards the ceiling.

"I don't know..." he muttered, continuing to unfold it. Once it was completely open, his eyes widened. "The fuck...?"

**24 STUDENTS REMAINING**


	31. Chapter 31

Chapter 30:

Olivia Dike (Female Student #7) moved quickly from behind one tree to another. Gripped in her hand was a large bladed weapon. A machete.

She had originally been hiding inside a small, shack-like structure, inside an outcrop of trees. However, the zone that she was inside was designated to become 'Dead' as of 4:00pm and she decided that she needed to move.

Her lean, muscular, build moved sharply and directly as she avoided making any sound. Every so often, when she came to a patch of thick undergrowth, she would throw a handful of pebbles forwards, to check and see if someone was there. So far, all was going well for her.

Keeping low to the floor, she advanced forwards. If she could just get out of this group of trees, and across the field (if her map proved correct) then she would be out of the zone. Then all she would have to do is find another good spot to hide and she would be home free.

Crouching down in front of a large shrub, she grasped at several stones that lined the floor and picked them up. Continuing with her ritual, she tossed the pebbles into the undergrowth and waited.

There was a rustling and all of a sudden, a head appeared. Wading through the buses was the figure of a girl. Olivia didn't recognise her, so she was probably one of the transfer students.

If she were honest, Olivia found the girl quite attractive (this was irrelevant at current time, but would probably become relevant in the near future, but Olivia was a lesbian). The new arrival was relatively short, with mousey blonde hair that fell to just below her shoulders, framing her slightly round face. She was dressed in a typical combination of tight jeans and a plain white t-shirt.

Backing away from the person, Olivia began to recede into the shrubs. There was always the chance that this person may try to kill her.

"W-wait!" the girl suddenly cried out. "Pl-please don't leave!" Her face was wet with tears that gleamed against her pale cheeks. Like ice.

Olivia stopped. Her grip on the machete loosened ever so slightly.

"Help me...!" the girl whimpered, staggering forwards. Olivia raised her machete as a warning against the girl. In response to this, the girl raised her hands into view. They were empty. "You have to help me...! I don't want to di-i-ie...!" Upon uttering the word 'die' she broke into a long string of sobs.

A sympathetic expression passed across Olivia's face. It wasn't in her nature to just let someone die.

"What's your name?" she asked softly, purposely lowering her voice in order to appear less intimidating.

"Laura..." the girl whispered, bowing her head slightly. "Laura Dennie."

**24 STUDENTS REMAINING**


	32. Chapter 32

Chapter 31:

Anna Tare (Female Student #14) was still sitting on the tiled floor of the suburban kitchen. Well, I say sitting. She was in more of a laying position. The floor was cold beneath the exposed skin of her arms and cheeks.

Her eyes were still puffed up from crying and long tear stains had spread down her cheeks. Her rectangular designer glasses were discarded to the floor next to her face. Reflected in the polished glass surface, the smashed mobile phone lay across the room from her.

The only reason that she hadn't moved into the living room or the rest of the house was due to the simple fact that every single door was locked. The only one that remained open was the back door that led from the outside into the kitchen.

It was probably left unlocked when the government evacuated the "playing area."

She just wanted to go home. She wanted her daddy. Her real daddy. Not that sick freak on the other end of the phone. The phone she'd smashed using the knife that she'd found in this kitchen (her actual designated weapon was in fact a small banjo, although this had nothing to do with her current situation).

Reaching out with a trembling hand, she clasped the handle of her kitchen knife and pulled it towards her. It's blade dragged across the tiled surface, resulting in a high toned sound that hurt her ears. This may sound strange but it was (much like a teddy is to a small child) a form of security. It made her feel safe.

The back door creaked open.

Anna shrieked. Scrambling along the floor, she ducked behind the free-standing worktop.

She'd seen it. The person had entered the room, with their arms raised. They were holding a gun!

"Calm down," arose an articulate voice. The trembling tone indicated that whoever the person was, they too were scared. However, the voice also carried with it a certain air of dignity to it that implied that they were attempting to quell the fear. "I'm not going to hurt you."

This wasn't what Anna heard. Echoing in her ears was the sombre maliciousness of: "I'm not going to hurt you. I just wanna torture you, cut off your head, skull-fuck your corpse a couple times, burn the house to the ground and go home and masturbate. Okay?"

Okay, despite being a complete 'daddy's girl', she had what one would call a "truly guttural" mind. Whenever someone would say or do something that she didn't like, she would often respond with: "Ugh, kill yourself." The perfect blend of stuck up bitch and a truly sick mind.

The fact that she was also an avid Anime and Manga fan (among other things), also contributed to her truly stomach churning auditory hallucination. Most Hellsing fans would recognise said speech from Jan Valentine's rant approximately half way through the second OVA of the series. (Now that she thought about it, god she was sad. "Ugh, kill yourself." But alas, there were more pressing matters at hand. This person who'd just entered the house was going to KILL her!)

Anna could hear the footsteps coming closer to her. The person who had entered the room might have been speaking, trying to calm her down. She didn't know. She didn't care. This person had a gun. This person was trying to kill her. Those were the rules of the game. She was going to die. Die. Die!

"Die, you fucking bitch!" Anna screamed, dashing out from around the free standing worktop and dashing towards the room's new occupant.

As she ran towards the source of the voice, knife flailing wildly in the air, her eyes, now devoid of glasses, obscured her view of her 'enemy' in a fuzzy blur. Despite her vision, however, she still had a decent idea of where the door was, because of the draught. Not to mention the reflection of light off of the barrel of the gun blazing in her peripheral vision.

_BANG!_

Despite the SIG-Sauer P230 being a semi-automatic model, due to the close range of the shot, Anna's hearing was disabled for a brief instant. The gun must have been right next to her head when it fired.

That means she passed them.

She continued to run, not bothering to attack the girl with the gun. Instead she opted to sprint through the back door and across the garden. Reaching the back fence, through blurred vision, she desperately looked for the gate. No sooner had she found it, she flung to wooden structure open and ran down the public footpath that joined the backs of the houses. (This was irrelevant, but every house on this road was locked save for the one that she hid in.)

As she ran down the footpath, the nettles that bordered the metal fence on her left slapped at her legs. Several managed to sting her though a hole in her tights. Jesus, that hurts! Wait, the only hole in her tights was way up her thighs. It should be covered by her skirt.

She realised that due to her excessive running, her tight skirt had risen up her legs so much that it was now more of a belt. Other than her tights and underwear (Hmm, g-string, not a bad choice) her lower body was practically naked.

She didn't care. She just wanted to get away. Get away. Get away! Anna turned into the gap in the metal fence and ran into the trees. She fell several times, but every time she got back up and continued to run.

There was no way that bitch in the house was going to catch her.

* * *

Robin Seere (Female Student #16) bore a bemused and dumbfounded expression. Lowering the SIG-Sauer in her right hand, she stared out of the back door of the house and found herself (horribly enough) smirking at the sight of Anna sprinting down the footpath.

Sure she knew that the situation was dire, but even in the horrors of The Program, Robin recognised a humorous situation when she saw it. If she was honest, it was probably one of he funniest things she had seen in a while. Almost everybody in the Sixth Form found Anna to be incredibly annoying. Robin saw the situation as karma.

However, despite this, she still felt bad. What if, because of her, Anna ran into someone that was actually playing this fucked up game? What if, because of her, Anna died?  
She was an Executive in the school. Despite discarding her badge and blazer, Robin still saw herself as this. She was supposed to do what was right for the students. Jeremy, the head boy, was already dead and Louise was still out there somewhere. That combined with her scaring Anna, she began to feel like they were completely useless. If this was the case with her, she could only imagine how the Officers were dealing with the situation.

(Officers was the term coined by their school that was used to describe prefects. They were divided into two types: Academic, who were in charge of clubs based on the specific subject that they were an officer for; and House, that were tasked with everything to do with the houses that the students were divided into. The only officers included in The Program were Tom Staring [Business Studies Officer], Alex Hall [Politics Officer] and- Wait, that can't be right? Will Pryer [House Officer].)

Robin debated over whether she should chase after Anna and try to calm her down. She decided against this. Sorrowfully clasping the door handle, she closed the back door of the house.  
Walking across the kitchen, she reached the door that probably led to the living room. Robin tried the handle, but nothing happened. It was locked. Not one to give up without a fight, however, she slammed her shoulder against the wooden surface and felt the lock buckle. Performing this action once more, she forced the door open.

Examining the wall on the other side of the doorway, she realised that the lock was a simple thin slide, explaining why she was able to force it open.

"Meow."

Robin whirled around suddenly and raised her gun. Breaking into a sigh, she realised it was just a cat and lowered the weapon.

An extremely thin brown cat sat on the sofa on the far side of the room. Tilting it's head to the side, it threw the "who the fuck are you and what the fuck are you doing in my house?" look across to Robin, while still maintaining an air of inexplicable cuteness.

"Aw, you poor thing," Robin cooed, hurrying over the room and sitting on the sofa next to the cat. Scratching it behind the ear with her finger, she noticed just how underfed the cat was. It was probably locked in the house when the government evacuated the owners for The Program.

Picking it up and cradling it in her arms, she carried it to the kitchen and set it down beside the worktop. Opening cupboards at random, she finally found a bowl, a fork and a tin of cat food. Emptying the contents of the tin into the bowl, Robin set it down on the floor and watched the cat eat.

"Don't worry, kitty, you're safe with me," she whispered reassuringly.

But who's to say that she herself was going to be safe?

**24 STUDENTS REMAINING**

_**[Okay, so what do you all think of the characters so far? Who's your favourite? Who do you think is going to win? I'd love to hear opinions now, as we are (literally) halfway through the plot. Please review.]**_


	33. Chapter 33

Chapter 32:

Female Student #5, Rebecca Odd sat trembling on the floor of a small shack. The freestanding structure was located inside of a small outcrop of trees on the south east side of the designated playing area. The wooden walls were slightly damp with moss, the pleasant scent wafting through the enclosed space.  
Her hands were shaking. Though, this wasn't because she was scared. A few years prior, she had contracted a nerve disorder in her lower arms that resulted in a constant tremor in her hands. It had ruined her standing as the best goalie the girls soccer team had ever had.  
It seemed like her life was just getting more and more messed up recently. After losing her position on the soccer team, her A-Levels seemed to not be going that well. Odd (as she was known to her friends) knew that she was going to fail biology. Her other subjects weren't going too well either. And now she was being forced to kill her friends.  
Her friends who were dwindling away. Matt was already dead, as was Emma. Her best friends, Gina and Lauren were dead too. Of course Gina was. She had found her, laying outside the school building, her face smashed in by a high calibre bullet. Her body splayed over the accompanying corpse of Jacob.  
She had tried to close her eyes. It was the least she could do as a friend. Unfortunately, she was unable. The damage to the top left corner of her head was excessive and, after all, who would want a winking corpse?  
The only people left in the 'game' that Odd even talked to we're Loren, Kris and Will. Loren and Kris not so much. When it came to her friendship group, they were just kind of there. Drawn to the group by Will. Despite being a source of nervousness for the majority of the student population, Will Pryer was a good friend to Odd. A few weeks earlier, he had spent the entire weekend at her house watching her DVDs of Criminal Minds. Even earlier in the year, still, she had admitted to him in a drunken rambling that he was like the brother she always wanted.  
Odd had brothers. Two of them. Though, being significantly older, they weren't at home much. When they were, they annoyed her. She wished that Will would be her brother.  
Will was somewhere in the game. Somewhere in this twisted fucking game. If she could find him, he could protect her. He could save her from this madness. From the sick man in the pink shirt that had greeted her when she awoke back in the classroom. Back when all her friends were still alive.  
Her hands still trembling, Odd reached out and grasped the wooden handle of the mallet that she had been supplied with as a weapon. She couldn't imagine, even in her wildest dreams, having to use the weapon to kill someone.  
Her aversion to murder was expected. After all, that's what we're all brought up to believe. Murder is wrong. Killing is wrong.  
"Not when you're the government," she muttered, venom dripping from her voice.  
That's right. The government had murdered her friends. And not just them. Ever since The Program had begun, hundreds of students had met their end. Worse still, it was now being televised. Parents would have to watch their children die.  
That is, if they hadn't been killed whilst protesting the situation. Smart parents would shut up and keep their heads down. Loving parents would secretly mourn. Stupid parents would try to fight back and die. Joining their children in the afterlife. Perhaps that was what they wanted.  
Odd didn't know what group her parents fit into.  
Looking up and across the shack, she spied a camera, disguised as a squirrel in the rafters. She began to speak. "Mum... Dad... If you're watching this... Don't worry. I'm going to be alright. I promise. I'm not afraid." She began to cry. "You always told me not to be afraid, dad. See. I'm doing what you said."  
Odd heard a rustling in the undergrowth outside the shack. Raising the mallet, she stopped speaking and began to walk towards the entrance.  
Stumbling through the ferns and shrubs, towards the shack, was a girl. Chin length brown hair and an ever so slightly prominent nose.  
It was Alex Hall (Female Student #18). Her appearance was slightly scruffy, due to the numerous hours wandering the designated playing area, and he eyes slightly wet from tears.  
There was a gun tucked into the waistband of her skirt. A Smith and Wesson M59 9mm semi-automatic pistol. She wasn't intending to use it, however. This much was clear from her face. The safety was still on.  
"Alex?" Odd called out, peeking from around the corner of the door to the shack. Alex might not have been a threat, however there might have been someone in the area that would relish a clear shot at both of them.  
"Oh my god," Alex gasped. "Becky, is that you?"  
"Yeah it's me," she replied, the side of her head still poking out from the frame of the door. "Quickly, get inside."  
Alex dashed through the undergrowth towards the shack and sat down in the corner of the dilapidated wooden structure. The scent of moss filled her nostrils as she hugged her knees close to her chest.  
"Are you okay?" Odd asked, sympathy filling her voice as she looked over at the girl.  
"Y-yeah... I'm fine," she replied, trying and failing to break into a reassuring smile.  
"No you're not," Odd said, lowering her eyelids slightly. Deep concern passed across her face. "What happened?"  
"I-" Alex swallowed hard. "I found a body. It was... Jesus- It was Louise." She began to cry. "Her-h-her head was... It was... She'd been shot."  
Odd cast her eyes down. She didn't know what to say.  
Suddenly, the two girls heard something. The sound of softly cracking twigs and the rustling of bushes and ferns. There was someone approaching the area they were in.  
Odd hissed from between get teeth slightly, as an indication that Alex needed to be quiet. Becoming as silent as was physically possible, the pair of them retreated to the corners of the shack. They hid in the shadows and held their breath. Odd could just barely see around the open frame of the shack door. All she could see was the green and brown landscape. There wasn't anyone there. Maybe she had imagined the sound.  
That was when she saw it. Passing through the trees about ten meters from the shack. Odd didn't recognise the girl. She must have been a transfer student. There was a harsh glint of metal in the girl's hands. She was holding a gun.  
Odd held her breath. The girl was just moving out of her field of vision. Her and Alex were safe for now.  
"Hello!" suddenly called out a female voice.  
Odd flinched. Was this girl serious? She was shouting like that in this situation? Didn't she know there were people out there trying to kill them?

Remaining flat against the wall of the shack, Odd didn't dare to make a sound.

"What do we do?" Alex whispered. "What if she tries to kill us?"

"I-I dunno," Odd replied, trying desperately to make as little sound as possible.

"Please, if anyone's in there! I don't want to kill anymore! You have to help me!"

Wait, what did the girl outside mean by 'anymore'? Did that mean she had already killed someone?  
Alex had picked up on the 'anymore' as well. She had already staggered to her feet and took up residence in the doorframe, pointing her gun out towards the woods.

The girl in the woods (Female Student #20, and transfer student, Danielle Elsmon) jumped slightly when she saw Alex appear in the doorway. She tweaked the trigger of her Browning 9mm, on pure instinct, similar to how she had accidently killed Louise. The bullet flew wide and tore into the bark of a tree, several meters to the left of the shack.

Alex returned fire. The bullet hit the ground behind Danielle, scattering earth into the air.

Alex's gun could hold 14 bullets in the magazine; Danielle's only 13. Plus, she had already used a bullet to kill Louise. Alex had two more bullets.

**24 STUDENTS REMAINING**


	34. Chapter 34

Chapter 33:

Tom Staring (Male Student #15) could hear gunfire. A lot of gunfire.

Eight-

_BANG!_

Scratch that, nine shots fired. There was a gunfight going on somewhere in the area. The blasts sounded close. Definitely closer than all the other's Tom had heard during the "game" so far. That meant the people fighting were within the same expanse of trees as him.

Should he go and check it out? He might be able to stop whoever it was. As long as the shots continued, he knew that both parties were still alive. Unless there were three of them. Or even four. Would it be worth risking his life?

_BANG! _

Another gunshot echoed through the trees. Tom gritted his teeth as he thought about the shots. One of his friends could be dying right now, and he was just sitting there.

"Fuck it," he muttered, suddenly rising to his full height of 6'7".

Swinging the government issued duffle bag up onto his shoulder, he gripped the stout handle of his Derringer .22 and began to walk through the trees. He ducked his head so he could move effectively under the overhanging branches without being struck in the face.

Ahead of him, was a ditch. There was a felled tree overhanging it; withered and dead branches dangling into the open air. At a guess, it was about nine feet across and six feet deep. Tom cautiously made his way around the edge of the ditch and continued on his way.

_BANG!_

The trees were growing denser as he advanced towards the sound of the fight. Along his right hand side, a high thorn bush grew from the ground. It came up to about his chest. He would have to circle through the trees to his left.

_BANG! BANG!_

Still walking at his steady pace, Tom reached up and ran his fingers through his short blonde quiff. His blue eyes darted through the trees, keeping watch for anyone else drawn to the fight. A lump formed in his throat as he swallowed hard. He was beginning to feel dizzy. Fear is a strange thing. It affects us in ways we don't expect.

Tom's hands grew sweaty and clammy as his face was gripped in a chilling sweat. The sound of his heart thumped in his ears.

_BANG!_

There was a slope ahead of him now. The dirt that made it was dry and dusty, crumbling beneath his feet. Tom tucked the Derringer into the waistband of his trousers and began to climb the slope, using exposed tree roots for leverage. Reaching the top, he hurriedly drew his gun again and kept low to the floor (well as low as he could), ducking in and out of the shade of shrubs.

_BANG!_

That was when he saw it. About fourteen meters ahead of him, was a small wooden shack. Behind a tree, about two dozen feet in front of the shack was a girl. Tom didn't recognise her. She was probably a transfer student. He couldn't see who was inside the shack from his position.

The girl behind the tree was handling the gun like a child with a water pistol. She held it at an odd angle, reaching around the tree without looking. She pulled the trigger. Unlike a child with a water pistol, however, the end of the gun exploded with a small flame. A portion of the wooden shack was torn off by the 9mm round.

Tom was scared. This wasn't playing out how he had imagined at all. Previously, he had held some kind of illusion of grandeur. He would show up, stop them from fighting and they would work this all out. He now realised he could never do that. If he even dared to stand up or make a sound, he would draw their fire.

Another shot was fired from the shack.

Tom gritted his teeth. He couldn't just sit by and wait for these two people to be killed. He averted his eyes.

That's when he heard it. The tell-tale sound of a machine gun. The rapid-fire 9mm bullets sprayed through the trees and into the side of the shack opposite to Tom. There was a scream.

The girl hiding behind the tree fell to the side as her left arm flailed upwards. Blood spattered the ground around the tree she hid behind. Screaming and bursting into tears, she scrambled through the undergrowth and ran.

Another barrage of machine gun fire burst from the trees and into the side of the shack.

The culprit came into view. Tom could see him clearly. His hair was wild and he wore a simple black suit and white shirt. It was the freaky transfer student. In his right hand was an Uzi.

There was still screaming from inside the shack. The person inside was still alive. Tom could help them.

Without a second through, he raised his Derringer and took aim. Both hands. Feet anchored into the floor. Eye-line aiming down the top of the gun. Beau had told Tom how to shoot once. He remembered everything he had been told.

He pulled the trigger. The transfer student ducked behind a nearby tree, just as the trunk of a birch next to him exploded into splintered fragments.

Taking this chance, the girl inside the shack sprinted. Dashing through the trees, Tom recognised Alex Hall.

He saw the transfer student step out and raise his Uzi. Tom aimed and fired again, providing covering fire for the girl.

That was it, he had expended his two shots. Reloading was too slow. He couldn't do anything else to help. Throwing a hesitant glance towards Alex, disappearing into the trees, he ran back the way he came. Reaching the slope from before, he jumped just as the sound of the Uzi filled his ears again. The transfer student was coming after him now.

His shoes slipped through the dusty earth as he landed. Tom slid the rest of the way down the slope.

Left or right? Which way did he come from? He had turned to his left so- Right. He needed to go to his right.

Tom turned right and continued to run, weaving his way between trees. A machine gun is useless without a clear sight. Trees were good. Ahead of him, he knew the ditch was coming up. The ground around it was raised. If you weren't looking for it, you wouldn't see it. The transfer student wouldn't notice that it was there.

He saw the ditch. Dashing to the side, he circled around it just as single shots started coming towards him. No spare magazines. The assailant with the Uzi didn't have time to reload the machine gun.

Tom began to zig-zag between the trees. No way was he going to let the guy with the machine gun get a clear shot at him.

He heard a crash from behind him. The transfer student must have fallen in the ditch.

Tom continued to run. No way he was going to stop.

* * *

Rebecca Odd (Female Student #5) lay in the shack coughing up blood. Her lungs felt like they were on fire. The tiny lead bullets that peppered her body felt hot and almost seemed to expand.

The hot metal seared her bloody flesh from the inside. She could taste copper and her vision was beginning to blur.

She wanted her mum. She wanted her dad.

The "squirrel camera" still stared down at her from the rafters of the shack. People sitting at home in a few days would be watching her die right now.

Odd began to cry. The tears flowing from the corners of her eyes mingled with the blood pooling in the corner of her mouth.

Choking on the blood, Odd began to heave. Her lips parted as she continued to look up at the camera.

"M-m-uuuum, Dad-d-d-d," she trembled. "D-don't cry… I-'m sorry I c-c-couldn't survive…"

Her hands stopped trembling.

**23 STUDENTS REMAINING**


	35. Chapter 35

Chapter 34:

Danielle Elsmon (Female Student #20, and transfer student) staggered through the bushes and trees, gripping her left arm. It hurt. It hurt. Fucking hell, it hurt.

The bullet had entered her arm and lodged itself in there, shattering her funny bone. Her left arm hung limply, swaying by her side. The handle of her Browning was poking out of her pocket.

Her face was red and she was crying. She couldn't see where she was going. She didn't care. She just wanted to get away from the man with the machine gun.

Crashing through the undergrowth, several branches and twigs scratched her face and arms, opening shallow cuts. Thin streaks of blood dripped down her pale skin, staining her flesh a faded red.

She felt a blow against the side of her head. Falling to the floor, her head caught on an exposed root. A deep gash opened on the side of her face.

* * *

Female Student #14, Anna Tare was freaking out. Everyone was out to get her. Everyone was trying to kill her.

But… how could she survive? She had no food. No water. No map. She couldn't tell where the danger zones were. The only thing she had was the knife she had stolen from that house.

She needed supplies. She needed a way to defend herself.

She needed a gun.

Anna heard crashing. Someone nearby was running through the undergrowth. Someone was crying. Screaming.

Danielle Elsmon broke through the undergrowth, running towards Anna.

She was a transfer student. Anna didn't know her. She could kill her. Right?

Picking up a large rock from the floor, Anna ran at Danielle. Raising it above her head, she slammed the rock into the side of the girl's face. Danielle dropped like a stone. Crashing to the ground, she hit her head on a tree root and began to cry. Blood was pouring down her cheek.

Anna threw the rock and Danielle and caught her full in the chest. The wind knocked out of her, Danielle began to cough and gasp for air. This was followed by Anna kicking her hard in the left arm. She screamed in pain, saliva flying from her mouth as her face turned red and she began to cry.

Anna bent over and began to swing her knife down. Danielle raised her right arm in front of her face to defend herself. Several gashes and slashes were torn open on her forearm. The blade plunged into her torso, just above her belly button.

Danielle gagged and vomited blood. She tried to reach for her gun, with her slashed right arm. Anna stabbed her in the underside of her elbow. Anna pulled the knife out and stabbed her in the stomach again. And again. And again.

Any person who watched enough films would have thought: "Shouldn't she be dead by now?" Unfortunately, humans aren't designed to die very easily. Survival is key. Even when dying will relieve great pain, a human will survive.

Anna sat above the helpless girl, stabbing her, for several minutes. As the blood pooled around the body, Anna's tights were soaked and stained red. Her face had several spots of blood dripping down the side, from the cast-off.

Danielle continued to cough and vomit, blood spilling from her lips. Her body was riddled with stab-wounds.

She died feeling some of the worst pain imaginable.

Anna breathed heavily, her body shaking and trembling. The adrenaline coursing through her veins flooded her system; her heart beating so fast it almost burst through her chest. Her red face gripped a boiling sweat.

Oddly enough, she broke into a smile. Danielle has a gun. Danielle had food and water. And a map. Anna could survive.

There was a metallic click, accompanied by the sound of a spark. Anna could smell a cigarette.

Dean Koontz (Male Student #19, and transfer student) dragged on the cigarette hanging from between his lips and closed his eyes. His Uzi was in his duffle bag along with his Colt .45. Clasped in his hand was a telescopic spring baton; just like the ones used by police.

Raising it, he struck Anna on the back of her head. She fell forward, face first, into Danielle's bloody torso.

She was knocked out.

Dean glanced around himself. All the gunshots, not to mention the girls' screaming, meant he would have to be quiet, making not to attract too much attention.

The left leg of his trousers was dirty from when he had fallen in the ditch.

Collapsing the baton in on itself, he pocketed it as he thought about the most efficient way to kill the unconscious Anna, without shooting again. He still had the throwing knife that he had picked up from Mario's corpse. He also had nunchaku, a dartboard with darts and six hand grenades. He didn't know how to use the nunchaku and darts wound do much, so they were out. The grenades were out of the question, so it was either Anna's kitchen knife or his own throwing knife.

He was more comfortable using his own knife.

Bending down over Anna, he pulled her head up and dug the blade into her throat, slashing her vocal chords and windpipe and one stroke.

As she bled out, he took Danielle's Browning and pocketed it.

**21 STUDENTS REMAINING**


	36. Chapter 36

Chapter 35

Female Student #15, Alice Write, was still inside one of the more urban areas within the designated playing area.

She was thinking about all the conceptual art that might have spawned from The Program and other related subjects. It helped her detach from the situation. It helped to subside the fear inside her. Focussing on something else often does.

Alice was an artist. She most commonly worked with paints and byro pen ink. She was also a writer. A poet actually.

Alice wondered what kind of art or poetry she could come up with, concerning The Program.

She'd heard of "artist's tragedy", but her inclusion in the "game" was more sick and twisted than ironic. But then again, isn't that just what irony is? A sick and twisted turn of events. No. The use of words expressing something other than the literal intention. Now that is irony.

Alice's hair was a deep dark shade of chocolate brown. Cropped around the sides and back and left long on top, she held a long side-fringe. Her eyes were hazel and her skin milky white.

The Program. Battle Royale. It haunted her.

Ever since she had read that stupid fucking manga series. She lived in fear of being chosen. She dreaded it. But then again, so did everybody else. Maybe even more so. All she knew is that she had to cope with it.

Her weapon was a crossbow. She was no Kazushi Niida. Nor was she Yoshio Akamatsu. She wasn't going to go on a killing rampage with it. While it was better than a blunt force weapon, it was slow to reload and too large to carry around for extended periods.

That's why she decided to stay in a house in the urban area. Move only with 'Dead Zones'. Simple plan.

She wondered how Elise was doing. Elise Pokok (Female Student #1) was her best friend. Alice was going to wait for her outside the school. Going to. She had found Jacob Booth's body. Fearful that someone might still be out there trying to kill her, Alice had run away.

She figured that a lot of people would be drawn to urban areas, but it seems that everyone else had the same thought and mostly stayed far away. That was good. She wouldn't meet anyone unpleasant (she hoped).

After checking her map, Alice had distinguished that she was just inside zone B-3. It wasn't designated to become a "Dead Zone", and she hoped that it wouldn't become active in the near future.

* * *

Beau Mehtre (Male Student #12) moved quickly through the farm coop behind the house. Jermaine Oseen (Male Student #7) kept watch at the door.

Beau hadn't told Jermaine what was written on the paper inside the cigarette packet. Not with the cameras around. Not with the listening devices in their collars. Shit, not even where there was a chance of them maybe being overheard by other "contestants". What was on the piece of paper was dangerous. Dangerous to everyone and everything in the "playing area".

It was coming up for 6pm now. The afternoon announcement from Mr O should be coming soon.

He was in the coop looking for tools. Anything he could use as a weapon besides his gun. He had a little over 40 bullets now and he needed to conserve them. Digging through a large tool chest in the corner of the coop, he unearthed exactly what he was looking for. A large gas-powered nail gun. It was constructed from bright yellow and black acrylic and came with two cans of gas, as well as twenty clips of nails to load. Not as good as a gun, but it was definitely worth having.

Pulling the improvised weapon and necessary accessories from the tool chest, Beau turned back towards the entrance to the barn and signalled to Jermaine that they were heading back inside the house.

They closed the back door of the house behind them and left it unlocked. Better to leave both doors unlocked in case someone attacked them and they would have to make a quick getaway.

Just as they sat back down in the living room, the voice of Mr O crackled in from their collars.

* * *

_FZZT "Good afternoon everyone. I must say, you've really gone and disappointed me. After racking up an impressive ten before the last announcement, you've only gone and shit on my hopes. Four. Four! I hope you're happy. The record has just gone out the window. Oh well, I guess I should probably give you their names._

_The first of the chosen four is Female Student #3, Louise Blare. The next is Rebecca Odd, Female Student #5. After that it was our dear transfer student, Danielle Elsmon; Female Student #20. And last, but certainly not lease is Daddy's Little Princess Anna Tare; Female Student #14. _

_All girls. Who'd'a thunk it? We're practically halfway there, little warriors. Twenty more and we have our winner. _

_So now, it's time for the Dead Zones. The first is zone B-3. Hear that, B-3; and that's at 7pm. Be out of B-3 in one hour. Next is G-4 and that's at 9pm. G-4 at 9pm. And then finally, we have H-7 at 11pm. Make sure you're out of H-7 at 11pm. _

_I would say 'you can do it', but apparently not. Try not to be so disappointing next time._

_Ciao." FZZT_

**21 STUDENTS REMAINING**


	37. Chapter 37

Chapter 36

Will Burrow (Male Student #6) was sitting in the shadow of a pine tree. His spoon was clasped in his fist. He didn't know why he still held onto his supplied "weapon". It was absolutely useless. He would have been better off using a large stick that he could pick up from the ground.

Above him, he could hear some magpies crying. He remembered a poem his mum used to read to him, about magpies.

"One for sorrow, two for joy,

Three for a girl, four for a boy.

Five for sixpence, six four gold,

Seven for a secret never to be told."

There was one magpie above him. Got that right. Fucking sorrow. All his friends were dying. Fucking magpies. Fucking Mr O.

Will had made up his mind. He needed to find someone. Sitting and hiding wasn't what he was about. He worked better with other people. He was flamboyant and outgoing.

But... Who could he rely on? Joe Thompson, his best friend was dead now.

He felt a lump in his throat as he thought about Joe. About how they rarely left each other's presence. About how there was always a running joke that the two of them were in a homosexual relationship. Will thought about the numerous parties and clubs they'd been to (fake IDs could work wonders) when they would always ask the DJ to play the song "Are You Gunna Bang Doe" by Funky Dee. They'd always sing and dance to that, and use it as an excuse to pick up girls.

Maybe Jermaine would be able to help him? He was always their driver when they went on nights out. Yeah. Jermaine could help him survive. But where was he? And how could Will find him?

The plan was stupid and he knew it. There was no way he could find the one student he could trust, in the vast expanse of playing area. It was like trying to find a needle in a haystack.

Haystack.

He began to laugh. Will remembered the party that Anna Tare had hosted in her family's massive barn that they owned. Will had drank the whole night. The morning after he had tried to ride Anna's alpacas and catch the chickens. Him and Joe had gotten into a drunken fight, only to realise they had overturned a large bowl of candy. Wrestling each other to the floor, on a bright pink blanket, covered in candy, it was dubbed "they gayest fight ever seen".

Will laughed so hard tears formed in the corners of his eyes.

Joe was dead. His best friend was gone.

He continued to cry with laughter, his face bright red.

_'This isn't right..._' he thought. _'Why am I laughing.'_

Will Burrow sat beneath the tree and wept.

* * *

Will Pryer (Male Student #11) darted through the trees in quick and precise movements. Every twenty steps he would throw stones into the ferns ahead, to make sure no-one was there.

His Ingram was held clasped in his right hand, a spare magazine taped upside down to the one already loaded into it. The other two spares were in his pocket. The Makarov was still strapped to the holster on his belt and the Colt Anaconda was still tied to his ankle. The Bowie Knife was in his duffle bag slung over his left shoulder.

He no longer wore his blazer and his sleeves were rolled up. His tie was gone and the tell-tale material of the bulletproof vest leaked from the neck line of his shirt. He no longer wore his leather dress shoes but rather a pair of sneakers stolen from a store in one of the villages, several hours before he met up with Beau. The soles had a better grip.

After Beau had ran from him, Will immediately knew that he had to change locations. His position was compromised. He stopped every twenty minutes to check his map and after about six and a half hours, he was nearing his intended location. The second (smaller) village in the designated playing area occupied the northernmost west corner of the map. It stopped just before entering A-1 on one side and partially lapped into B-3 on the other. B-3 would be dead in twenty-he checked his watch- six minutes. He could cross the corner of the grid square in fifteen if he kept to his current pace, and then take up residence in the trees just south of the village. It was the highest hill peak marked on the map. Good visibility and cover.

He gripped the handle of the Ingram and continued to dash between trees. He kept low to the ground.

Will was nearing the edge of the tree-line. After this, it was all fields until he reached the hill he was aiming for. The fields were separated by hedges. He'd keep to the edge of them and stay low.

**21 STUDENTS REMAINING**


	38. Chapter 38

Chapter 37

Ryan Raroof (Male Student #2) peered around the corner of a farmhouse. He held the CZ75 he had taken from Louise tightly in his fist. He should have taken her bag as well. He bag had bullets in it. Louise had shot four times. The magazine could hold twenty. Ryan only had 16 bullets.  
He was in the far south of the designated area. The first student to do so. Most of the others had kept their distance. The reason for this was that the edge of a large lake overlapped into the area. Two farmhouses bordered the lake, facing towards the middle of the playing area. A road stretched from between them to join onto the main road that spanned the entire width of the "arena".  
Keeping low, Ryan swung his body around the corner, moving the gun with his line of sight. His cadet training was finally paying off. The safety of the gun was off and his finger remained on the trigger. Not once did he move the gun aim out of his sight line.  
Moving slowly to the back door of the house, Ryan reached out and tapped the handle with the tips of his fingers. It wasn't hot. No booby traps then. He turned the handle. Good; it was unlocked.  
Ryan flung the door open and stepped in, swinging the gun around in front of him, covering the expanse of the kitchen. No-one inside. He closed the door behind him and repeated the same routine with every room in the house.  
Ryan returned to the kitchen and set a chair across the room from the back door. The front door was locked and all the windows were bolted shut. If anyone was going to come into the house, they would enter through the back door. He lay the CZ75 on his thigh and folded his arms across his chest, waiting.  
As he sat, Ryan thought about his life before The Program.

* * *

_Ryan was driving down the road. Above his bright red Fiat Punto, the bright sunlight shimmered through the air. Beating down on the car, the light glared from the windows.  
The road that he was driving down twisted and turned through numerous rows of flats and apartments. Trees lined the side of the road.  
Ryan's phone was connected to his radio via Bluetooth. He was talking to someone on the other end of the line.  
"Hey, Ryan, where you at, man?" came the voice from the other end of the line.  
"I'm just heading down Arethusa Drive. Why?"  
"We were thinking about goin' bowling. Wha'dja say dude?"  
"Yeah, sounds good, Beau. I'll see you there in a minute."  
The call was disconnected just as Ryan made a left turn. The music resumed, as his ears were filled with the sound of Shaggy.  
If Beau had called him, then that meant Emma was probably coming along as well. That was good. Before she started going out with Beau, she had been one of Ryan's best friends. Odds are that Tom would also be coming along. Tom would have probably invited Odd. Will Pryer would also be an obvious attendant. Ryan doubted that Kris or Loren would show up. They were the most anti-social people in their group, in comparison to everyone else. Helen and Sally would probably come as well – not included in The Program.  
After driving for close to ten minutes, he pulled up outside the bowling alley and parked his car. His friends stood outside waiting for him. Tom stood towering over the group, Beau to his left. Emma clung to him, her considerably smaller stature giving the impression of a younger sibling, rather than a girlfriend. Odd was off to the side, looking around. Will stood in between Helen and Sally, laughing about something.  
"Hey guys, you alright?" Ryan said, locking his car and walking over towards the group.  
"Hey there, you sexy beast," Helen chuckled, blatantly flirtatious. Helen was, by far, the most overtly sexual girl that he had ever met.  
Ryan pulled an awkward expression before turning back towards Beau and laughing. He had known Beau for five years. He was the first person Ryan had met after moving to England from Sri Lanka. Beau was Ryan's best friend.  
"You catch the rugby game yesterday?" Beau asked, breaking into a grin.  
"Yeah," Ryan laughed. "What was Australia thinking? They were playing shit."  
"I know!"  
Ryan and Beau continued to talk about the game last night as the group walked through the glass doors into the bowling alley. They reached the desk, booked a lane and collected their shoes.  
Beau was the first up to bowl.  
Watching as his friend hurled the ball down the lane, Ryan grinned. Strike.  
Will was up next. Removing his leather jacket, he lined up his shot and bowled. Despite not being as physically imposing as Beau, Will's height of six foot, not to mention his toned build, enabled him to bowl a strike as well.  
No more strikes were bowled until Ryan's turn came. Beau, Will and himself were pretty much tied for half of the game.  
Beau walked up for another turn as Will talked to Tom behind him.  
"So, did you watch The Program last night?" Will asked Tom.  
Beau threw a gutter ball.  
"You alright there, Beau?" Odd chuckled, calling over to him.  
"Yeah, I'm fine," Beau muttered picking up another ball and trying to ignore Will and Tom talking about The Program behind his back.  
"-just killed. He didn't even stand a chance. The people that run it really are fucked up."  
Gutter ball again.  
Will turned towards him, raising his eyebrows. "You alright there, Beau?"  
"Yeah, yeah," he replied, breaking into a reassuring smile. "Just… just thrown off my game a bit."  
Will stood, patted him on the shoulder and picked up his own ball as the pins were re-set. He continued to talk to Tom as he bowled.  
"I'm just saying that they always manage to hire the most insane person possible to run the thing." Will threw the ball and turned back towards Tom. "You'd think that they would have the foresight to bring an instructor in that wouldn't kill before it started."  
Strike.  
Ryan began to chuckle. Everything was just the way it usually was. Will was as blunt as ever. Zero tact. Saying everything that came to his mind. Beau was as empathetic as ever. Even if it was just casual conversation, he hated everything about The Program. Tom was tolerant to everything. Odd was laughing and joking.  
The situation was typical. Normal. Perfect.  
_  
**21 STUDENTS REMAINING**


	39. Chapter 39

Chapter 38:

Steph Night (Female Student #13) gripped the shotgun tightly in a white knuckled grip. Some of Joe Thompson's blood was still stuck to the side of her face from when she had bitten him.  
There was no way she was going to die. No one else knew what it was like. Living the way she had for the past few months. It was maddening. She needed to get out of it.  
Steph had realised what she needed to do when Joe had found her. She needed to win The Program. Cash prize right? She could buy a nice house. Get away from that filthy apartment.  
That's why she needed to survive. Everyone else had the chance to live a good life. But not her. She needed that chance. The Program would give her that chance. Reality TV at its best.  
As odds go, she probably had one of the best weapons included in this incarnation of the "game". Aside from the two machine guns, Steph's shotgun by far had the most destructive force out of any weapon.  
The sun was beginning to sink over the dark line of the horizon. The glowing red ball threw distorted shadows across the fields behind Steph. Her skin almost seemed to glow a luminescent shade of bright orange. The bright light gleamed from the chrome colour of her metal collar.  
Up ahead of Steph was a large hedgerow, separating the field she was standing in from the adjoining one. Several branches of briar and thorns wove their way between the hedge structure, ripe blackberries hanging from them.  
She was currently in zone B4. B3 had been marked as "Dead" close to half an hour ago. It was half past seven at night. Up ahead of her was the largest hill in the designated area, and just across the next field was the beginning of the trees that swamped the hill.  
Walking along the edge of the hedgerow, Steph came to a high wooden stile*. Hoisting herself over, she touched down on the ground and continued to move along the edge of the field, until she arrived at the boundary of the trees. She could smell the ferns and pines. A pleasant smell, after being exposed to the stench of blood for so long.  
Still holding the shotgun, she ventured into the trees.  
It was silent. Not even birds cried out. She would have to be particularly careful when moving around, so as to make sure that no-one could hear her. At the same time, she also wanted the other people there to make noise. It would make it easier to tell where they were. Give her a better chance at killing them. So she could escape. From both her life and The Program.  
Steph got her wish.  
She could hear the faint, drizzling splash of water. Someone was pissing in the undergrowth. Taking slow and hesitant steps, she made sure not to make a sound as she advanced towards the source of the noise.  
She was pretty sure that it was coming from behind the large oak tree in front of her. Raising the shotgun, Steph ran around the tree and aimed. Aimed at the other student that was- ...not there.  
The ground was damp. Had she missed them? No, she had heard them pissing until she stepped around the tree. This wasn't right. It was like the other person had just up and disappeared.  
She felt a faint splash of water on the top of her head. Rapidly looking up, she came face to face with a plastic water bottle. It had been hung from an overhead branch via a thin line of fishing wire and pierced with a sharp knife. A thin stream of water trickled from the punctured plastic.  
Steph raised her shotgun and pointed into the branches of the tree. She saw a dark figure climb over into the next tree. Pulling the trigger, she blasted away several dozen branches.  
The figure continued to climb, partially illuminated in the orange glow of the sunset. It's face shrouded in velvet black.  
Steph fired again. Again she missed.  
This time, the figure returned fire. Earth flew up in her face as the bullet hit the ground beneath her feet. Steph stopped in her tracks. She could tell that whoever it was had missed on purpose.  
"Move and you're dead," said the figure in the tree. "I want you to hold the gun out to the side and drop it."  
Steph did as the figure had said.  
Dropping from the branches, Will Pryer (Male Student #11) touched down on the floor. He held his Makarov pistol in front of him.  
Steph scanned his face and body with her eyes. His facial appearance reminded her of a young version of the deceased actor Heath Ledger. His eyes, such a dark shade of blue that in the failing light they appeared black, stared intently at her face.

* * *

Tom "Crom" Rawlings (Male Student #20, and transfer student) heard the two blasts of the shotgun, followed by the single gunshot. He was close to them. He could tell.  
After raiding the tinned food section of the petrol station several hours earlier, he had taken up residence on the edge of the largest hill in the playing area. He sat in a ditch, covered by ferns and bushes. He was completely hidden.  
Crom was a nickname given to him by his friends after several different... incidents. It was shortened from Crazy Tom. And he was crazy. His hair, similar in length and style to Will Pryer's, now fluffed up and dishevelled, gave him the appearance of a mad scientist. But that wasn't the only reason he was known as Crom. A year earlier, after learning that one of his best friends had started smoking, he had held down his friend and stubbed out twenty cigarettes up the length of his arm, in order to make him quit. He played rugby for his school and, while standing at only five foot seven, held a great deal of strength.  
His issued weapon was an antique rifle. A bolt action Lee Enfield. Used by British forces in World War 1, it could hold ten bullets in the clip and one in the chamber. Crom had read the accompanying manual, but he didn't think it would be of much use. The gun was almost a hundred years old. He felt like it could fall apart any second.  
Crom thought about the shots he had heard. Would it be wise to go and check? Maybe interfere? It sounded like a shotgun and a handgun. Handy to have in a confrontation.  
Perhaps he should go and check it out. Maybe kill the survivor. Crom's rifle might not have been reliable, but he was sure that he could get at least one long range shot in.  
Making up his mind, Crom stood up and grabbed his rifle by the stock. Pushing aside the ferns, he climbed out of the ditch before replacing them. Keeping low, he crept through the trees in the direction he guessed the shots to come from, until he heard voices.

* * *

"What are you doing, Will?" Steph asked, swallowing hard in an attempt to remove the lump in her throat.  
"Guess you haven't met many people in this," he grunted. "Playing to win."  
"What a coincidence," Steph giggled, clasping her hands behind her back. Her large chest was pushed up and forwards, showcasing her cleavage. "So am I."  
"Cute," Will smirked. "Now drop the taser."  
"How did you-?"  
"Back pocket. Saw it when you circled around the tree. Wouldn't have noticed it unless I was looking for it. Saw you had blood on your face and figured that you had another weapon. Who'd you kill?"  
He was direct, blunt and struck with the force of a sledgehammer. Every time he finished a sentence, Steph felt as if he'd punched her in the chest.  
"Joe," she said, hesitantly, as she slowly pulled out the taser and held it to her side.  
Will kept his eyes fixed on the weapon as he spoke. "Thought Joe was your friend?"  
"So did I," Steph replied. "Who'd you kill?"  
"No-one," Will said. He glanced to the side, avoiding eye contact, as he said it.  
"Liar."  
Steph knew he was lying. She could always tell if someone was a liar. Steph had been surrounded by liars almost her entire life. She knew that Will had killed someone. Probably more than one.  
She knew how to deal with him.  
"Don't worry... You didn't have to kill them," she said. "It was self-defence, right?" She just needed to keep hold of her taser until she saw an opening. "I know. It was like that with me as well. I can..." She hooked the neckline of her top with her left hand and began to pull it down. "I can make you forget about it. Remember New Years? We can go back to what happened, if you like."  
Will moved the gun so that it was pointed at her head. Steph stopped just as she was about to take a step forwards.  
"Don't you dare," he muttered.  
"Why don't you just kill me?" she chuckled, still pulling her top down. Her left nipple came into view, peaking around the hem of her exposed bra.  
Will was about to speak when he was interrupted by the sound of a gunshot. Staggering back from the force, as the bullet collided with his chest, Will fell to the floor.  
Steph immediately turned around and saw a distant figure in the trees. He had hair similar to Will's and a rifle in his hands. Hurriedly scooping up her shotgun, she returned fire.  
Unknown to the fighting duo, Will had taken the chance to run. His bulletproof vest had protected him from harm and he felt it best to leave. He ran towards the village on the northernmost side of the trees.

**21 STUDENTS REMAINING**

* [A/N: A stile is a wooden structure built into a wooden fence that allows passage between adjoining fields. en. wiki/Stile#section_2 ]


	40. Chapter 40

Chapter 39:

Male Student #12, Beau Mehtre was sitting in the living room of the farmhouse again. The nail gun was laying on his lap and his gun was tucked into the back waistband of his trousers. He heard the gunshots echo across the landscape. He tensed his jaw and flitted his blue eyes towards the window. Of course he didn't see anything. The drapes had been drawn.

The failing light was leaking from around the curtains in a deep orange glow. The light reflected from the matt black surface of his government supplied watch. It was 7:41pm. Night would probably fall in about half an hour.

He wondered how his fellow students, his friends, would react to the "game" in the dark. People would probably think it safe to move around more. It was more difficult to be detected in the dark. However, it was also easier to be ambushed by someone else.

Rising to his feet, Beau pulled the curtain to the side and peered out onto the road, doused in sunset. The blue ford fiesta parked in front of the farmhouse still had the driver side front door open. It was probably left like that when the Special Defence Forces had evacuated the population. The owner of this house had more than likely been grabbed in their car. Beau could just about see the keys hanging from the ignition.

Handy when he needed a quick getaway. Ryan was always the driver for their group but Beau was only one lesson away from taking his test. He could drive if he needed to.

Jermaine was upstairs taking a shit. Beau had done so an hour ago. The last thing they wanted was something like that distracting them.

* * *

Dean Koontz (Male Student #19) slung his Uzi up onto his shoulder as he strolled through the trees that bordered the main road that ran through the designated "playing area". He still held his cigarette clasped between his lips. The tip flared brightly as he dragged. Smoke flickered from his nostrils.

The main road passed through the school's permanent Dead Zone about halfway along its length. Another two zones and Dead would have to change his course and veer off track.

Doused in a deep orange glow, up ahead of him, was a two story farmhouse. Behind it was a large farm coop and in front of it was a blue ford fiesta.

He finished his cigarette, lit a new one and advanced on the house.

* * *

Jermaine was just walking down the stairs when Beau walked from the hallway into the kitchen.

"Hey, man," Jermaine said, looking down from the stairs on his associate. "What'cha doing?"

"I'm hungry," Beau muttered. "I haven't eaten since around midday. "Being in a situation like this and not eating isn't smart. We need to keep our energy levels up."

"I already checked in there," Jermaine said. "It's all rotten."  
"You didn't check the cupboards. Tinned food doesn't expire and it would be nice to get some meat. Even if it is Spam."

The pair walked into the kitchen and rummaged through the cupboards. They found a can of corned beef and a tin of beans. Just as they were about to open the cans, the pair heard a sound. The familiar sound of machine gun fire.

Beau immediately dropped the tin and can-opener and pinned himself to the floor. The back window of the farmhouse exploded into shards and fragments of shimmering orange, reflecting the afternoon light. Jermaine followed Beau to the ground almost two seconds later.

"Front door!" Beau shouted, scrambling along the tiles towards the hallway.

Jermaine remained in the kitchen, pressed against the counter in a state of shock. Beau reached the living room, grabbed his duffle bag, and ran for the front door. Jermaine began to rise to his feet, but the machine gun fire rattled off again. He dropped and began to crawl. Beau flung the door open and threw his bag through the open window of the ford fiesta. Slamming the driving door, he glanced over his shoulder back at the house.

"Come on Jermaine!" he shouted. "Run you stupid sonofabitch!"

The machinegun fire pervaded the air again, flying down the hallway as Dead Koontz walked through the back door. Jermaine had no time to get to the front door. He would be shot if he moved in a straight line. He leapt to the side into the cover of the stairs and sprinted up them. Reaching the bedroom that overlooked the front of the house, he locked the door and flung the window open.

"Just go, Beau!" he shouted.

Beau hesitated and looked up at the window. He gritted his teeth, locked his arms and stopped.

"GO!"

Beau turned the key in the ignition and floored the accelerator. The rubber of the tires squealed against the tarmac as he sped down the road. West.

Back in the house, Jermaine gripped the handle of his hatchet as he waited for the transfer student to reach him. His heart throbbed in his chest, pulsating rapidly. His head ached and his eyes lost focus as he started intently at the door.

He could always jump out the window? Yeah. Sounds good. Jump and get out.

Jermaine looked out of the window. He must have been about ten feet up. Maybe eleven. The fall wouldn't kill him. But there was always the possibility of breaking his ankle, fracturing his leg, crippling himself.

Fuck it. It was a chance he was willing to take. He didn't want to sit there and wait for death. Climbing up onto the windowsill, he prepared himself to jump. He leapt as soon as the swarm of 9mm bullets burst through the bedroom door. Tearing through the end of his leather dress shoe, one of the bullets tore three of his toes from his foot.

Jermaine landed on the grass screaming. Rolling forwards, he attempted to scramble to his feet. He fell twice before running on the heel of his left foot.

If he could just get to the trees then he could lose the transfer student in the brush. He couldn't get a clear shot. Not in the failing light with the trees.

_BRR-ATATATATA!_

Again the Uzi sprayed a hail of bullets. This time from the window. They entered Jermaine's upper back and exited at the base of his stomach.

He lay bleeding to death for several seconds before his organs failed and he died.

**20 STUDENTS REMAINING**


	41. Chapter 41

Chapter 40:

Beau sped down the main road, his map open on the passenger seat next to him. The overhead light in the car added a secondary light source to the sun, now almost completely gone over the horizon. He was nearing zone F-6. The school was in that zone. Permanent Dead Zone.

He flicked his eyes over the map again. There was a dirt road up ahead, turning into the largest outcrop of trees in the "playing area". The trees where Will had killed Alice and Lauren. The dirt road bypassed the Dead Zone and connected to a secondary road leading to the village in the top right corner of the area. He would head there. Ditch the car when he was nearing the village and walk the rest of the way. Find a place to hunker down.

He could still hear the roaring of shotgun fire in the distance.

* * *

Steph and Crom were still shooting at each other. Or, well should I say Steph was still shooting at Crom. Her shotgun had far more firepower and, as such, she had him backed into a figurative corner. However, that was soon going to end. There was a sharp metallic click as she expended her last shell. She had no more left. The rest were in her bag.

Crom moved quick. Being the fastest guy in his own school, he managed to reach her in under seven seconds. Tackling Steph to the floor, he pinned her before clamping his hands around her neck.

It was then that he realized how pretty she was. Her large blue eyes (somewhat bulged due to his grip on her throat) almost seemed to glitter like ice. He could feel the soft warmth of her breast beneath his body. Against his better judgement, Crom released her, keeping her pinned.

"Aren't you a pretty one," he grinned, keeping a tight grip on her.

Steph spat in his face. His grin grew wider. Crom kissed her, making sure to keep his tongue to himself, in order to avoid unpleasant biting.

"I'm going to give you a choice," he whispered close to her ear. "You can do what I want and get away alive, or I can choke you to death right now."

She said nothing. Steph was waiting for him to make the same mistake that Joe Thompson had. Unfortunately, Crom was not so stupid. Keeping her pinned with one arm, he removed his tie and gagged her.

"I'll take that as a yes," he chuckled.

He didn't know what he was doing. It was as if he had been possessed by some strange beast. Ordinarily, he would never have even considered doing what he was about to do. But… he could get away with it. He could do anything he wanted and no-one could do a god damn thing.

Crom flipped over and held her in place. He quickly removed his blazer and tore one of the sleeves off. His tied the girl's hands behind her back.

He could do whatever he wanted to now.

Crom turned Steph back over and tore her top down the middle. He pulled off her trousers and admired her laying on the floor, half naked. Trailing his fingertips over her body, Crom smiled to himself as he slipped his digits around her underwear and into the struggling girl.

After that, it was all natural progression.

He raped her.

* * *

Jordan Jarve (Male Student #16 and Transfer Student) peered down at his collar tracking device. His dark corkscrew curls wove around his face as he bent his head. It was dark now.

In the middle of the woods, the blackness almost seemed to swallow everything up. He could see absolutely nothing. But what he couldn't hear, he my far made up for in what he could hear. The rustle of wind through trees and bushes, the screeching of bats, the cries of nocturnal birds.

Jordan fumbled with the tracking device before returning it to his bag and sitting down against a tree.

It was him against the night now. Him against the unknown. He would just have to sit still and wait until morning. There was no sense in going out and falling into a trap set up by someone in the dark.

He was unable to find William, but that wasn't a bad thing. Other than that shooter, he hadn't run into any dangerous situations.

The shooter… He had killed that girl right in front of Jordan. He still felt sick at the fact that he hadn't done anything about it. That he had just let her die in vain.

Jordan gritted his teeth and closed his eyes. He let the darkness take him.

**20 STUDENTS REMAINING**


	42. Chapter 42

Chapter 41:

Lianne Otter (Female Student #12) sat trembling in the corner of a house. Her deep chocolate brown hair was matted, her natural shade of ginger peeking through in harsh glares.

The memory of Brynn Jones' mutilated face as still seared into her memory. It wasn't a face that she would be forgetting any time soon. The shattered teeth, the torn and bloody flesh. The eye, bulbous and split in half.

She had vomited right after she had been sure she had run far enough away.

Lianne felt tears welling up in the corners of her eyes. Shaking her head, she ceased the tears. She couldn't give into her tears now. Not after being in this godforsaken "game" for so long. It would just be a waste.

Glancing down at her hand, her hazel eyes locked onto the shadowy form of the gun. A Glock 17. And it was beginning to look really friendly.

But not it the way that it would probably be to some of the other students.

It looked like it could end everything. End the pain. The fear. The sadness. The gun could end it all, just by putting a bullet into her skull.

The thought was hurriedly dismissed, however. It wasn't in her to give up like that. Her friends would never forgive her. Rachel would never forgive her.

Rachel was her best friend. Though not included in The Programme, Lainne felt like Rachel had been there with her. Telling her not to be scared when everything seemed like it was too much for her.

Lianne thought back to all of her friends that hadn't been included in this stupid "game". How they would all be sitting at home, knowing that she had been taken. She knew that they would cry. That it would devastate them. Would they watch her on TV? She hoped that they wouldn't. What about her parents? They would be distraught. Her brother would be worse.

Lianne's brother was everything to her, and vice versa. He was two years older, but he was practically her best friend. She could remember numerous occasions where she had gone out partying with him. All the times she had defended him from hate. Lianne's brother was gay.

She had been strong back then. Much stronger than she was now.

Could she use that strength? She was terrified, but it could be possible. She could be strong for Rachel; for her friends; for her family. She could be strong for Sean, her brother.

Tightening her grip on the Glock, she hesitantly rose to her feet.

She thought she could hear someone moving outside. It would be best to look out the window and check. If anything, just to stop her from worrying.

She moved in line with the front door just as it was kicked in.

Lianne was met with the large form of Will Pryer. The boy who had killed someone right in front of her.

* * *

Beau parked the car in the thick bushes the lines the secondary road and began to move towards the village. Due to the darkness, he couldn't see very far in front of himself. Instead, in order to find his way, he used a combination of moonlight and the portion of road that he could see. He traced it through the countryside until he could make out the shadowy outline of the village on the horizon. He was getting close to it.

The nailgun was in his bag, the Colt Python .357 was still tucked into the waistband of his trousers. He held his original weapon of a kitchen knife in his hand. In this darkness, if he were to run into someone, it would more than likely be up close. His reaction time was quicker with a knife.

Finally reaching the village, he flattened himself against the wall of a building and began to move around it, finding cover in the shadows.

It was then that he heard it. The sound of splintering wood. Someone had kicked in the front door of a house.

Rolling along the side of the building, Beau turned his line of sight towards the road. Across the street, he could make out the shadowy form of a man. A man with long curly hair.

Will Pryer.

* * *

Lianne shrieked and raised her Glock. She pulled the trigger and a tiny flame flickered from the barrel of her gun for a brief instant.

Will staggered back and slammed against the wall, pushed back by the force due to the extreme close range of the shot. He gagged in pain and groaned, before turning his eyes up towards the girl.

"Well that was unpleasant," he chuckled, painfully. His dark eyes turned upwards to meet Lianne's shocked face. "Though I can't say I didn't bring it on myself."

"B-but you… You…" Lianne stammered; eyes wide.

"Bulletproof vest," he chuckled, knocking his fist against his stomach, making sure to avoid the spot on his chest where she had shot him.

Lianne raised the gun again, this time aiming at his head. She gritted her teeth and prepared the pull the trigger.

"Wait!" Will suddenly said, raising his arm as if to deter her. "Why are you trying to kill me?"

"Why?" she gasped, almost in disbelief. "You…killed that poor boy! You were going to kill me!"

"I wasn't going to kill you," he said. "And that guy was only in self-defence. He was going to kill me!"

"How do I know you're telling the truth?" Lianne asked, hesitantly.

Will appeared to think about this for a second before raising his hands to his chest and unbuttoning his shirt. Lianne began to blush as he did so. Will removed his black shirt and pulled off his bulletproof vest. He threw it to the floor and nodded up at Lianne.

"That's yours now," he muttered.

Lianne let her eyes move over his torso. She knew that he was well-built and his body obviously indicated this, but what surprised her was just how hairy he was. He had a large and harsh bruise mounted on the centre of his chest, from where she had shot him.

"What do you…?" she said, but found herself at a loss for words.

"I don't want to kill anyone," he began to explain. He walked forwards and stepped to the side, in front of the open door. "I'm giving you that so that you can trust me."

All of a sudden, he stopped. His body shook. A thin line of blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. His eyes moved down and located a kitchen knife stuck in his side.

Behind him, Beau pulled the knife out and began to breathe heavily. He had actually stabbed someone. He'd STABBED someone. But he knew it had to be done. Will was dangerous. Despite being his friend, Beau knew that this was the best thing to do. It's like a mad dog. A mad dog needs to be put down before it hurts anyone else.

"Thought you'd be here, Beau," Will laughed, breaking into a blood-stained and toothy grin. He coughed heavily and spat blood onto the floor. "T-though, I never figured you'd actually stab me."

Beau raised the knife to stab him again, but Will fell to the floor. As blood leaked from the wound in his side, he rolled onto his back and began to laugh.

"Just thought you ought to know, I didn't kill those girls," Will said, looking Beau in the eye. Despite his smile, it was clear that he was deathly serious. "There's another guy running round with a machine gun." He paused and scanned Beau's face. "But, then again, you already know that…don't you?"

Beau suddenly realised. Will was telling the truth. Will hadn't purposely killed anyone.

But, the machine gun, the knife, the bulletproof vest, the other gun. Where did Will get all his weapons from.  
Will reached into his duffle bag, on the floor, and pulled out a roll of silver duct tape. Pulling it out, he began to wrap it around his torso, sealing off the stab wound as he spoke. "The knife is mine." It were almost as if he had read Beau's mind. "I got my pistol when I found Jake. He was… freaking out outside the school. I t-tried to stop him… it went off. Can't believe I killed him. Then…that transfer student. The one with the black hair. H-he found me in the woods. I…k-killed him in self-defence. Lianne…saw that."

Beau looked over at Lianne. She was crying.

"He had…a l-lot of weapons…" Will continued. "Must have killed at…l-least 3 people. Got a bullet…proof vest. And a gun. And…The machine gun."

Beau couldn't believe what he'd just done. He'd just killed one of his friends, based only on suspicion. Based on a gut feeling that turned out to be wrong.

"I'm so sorry, dude," Beau said, feeling tears welling up in the corners of his eyes.

"Come on dude don't go crying like a f-" he caught himself when he saw Lianne above him. "Like a fucking retard." He coughed again as he unsteadily rose to his feet. He'd never been in so much pain before. "So I guess all my weapons are yours now."

"Whoa man," Beau said, grabbing Will's arm and steadying him. "Don't stand up."

"I'm fine," he smirked.

It was then that they heard it. The sound of squealing tires.

Someone had just driven into the village.

**20 STUDENTS REMAINING**


	43. Chapter 43

Chapter 42:

Dean Koontz (Male Student #19) switched off the engine and exited the car. A silver Honda Civic. He had found it parked outside the petrol station bordering the main road. After killing Jermaine, he had followed Beau's car down the road until he had reached the dirt road. Dean remembered a car being in the petrol station just past the school's permanent Dead Zone, so he circled around and stole the car.

He made sure that his three spare magazines for the Uzi were full. He did the same with the clips for his Colt .45 and the Browning.

Spitting the cigarette from his mouth, he reached into his blazer pocket for another and realised he was out.

* * *

Beau and Lianne were watching from the front window of the house.

"Who's that?" Lianne trembled, whispering to the two boys.

"No idea," Will groaned, putting pressure on the duct tape on his left side. He was still against the wall on the opposite side of the room. "But if I had to guess, I'd say it's the other guy with the machine gun."

"So we shoot and kill him?" Beau muttered, holding his hand out to support Will's body.

"Ill advised…" Will coughed. "You miss, he'll f-fuckin' shred you with his machine gun."

"Then we use yours."

"Machine gun from this distance is n-no good… Dif-ffff-icult as f-fuck to aim. Best use is to get in cl-ose enough to spray."

"And can we?" Lianne asked, her voice a little more than a whisper.

"Too risky…" Will answered, again gagging on blood. "He notices you, he's probably got a quicker… trigger finger…"

"So what do we do?" asked Lianne, stepping away from the window.

"You guys g-go out the b-aack," Will heaved, beginning to stand and walk. "I'll lure…him in here and d-d-istract him."

"How do you plan to do that?" Beau questioned, picking up Will's weapon-filled duffle bag.

Will unstrapped his holster and threw the Makarov to Beau. "I was heading to this house anyway… I stored a s-special something here…" He reached down and fell to the floor, attempting to untie the Colt Anaconda from under his trousers.

"Like the thing in the-" Beau began but was soon cut off by Will. He had been attempting the refer to what had been written on the paper in the cigarette packet.

"S-so…" Will gasped. "Just take her…" He nodded to Lianne. "And f-fuckin' run."

* * *

Dean spotted the kicked in door of the house. He cocked his Uzi and started towards the door.

Something dropped from the sky. He leapt back and sprayed a hail of bullets at whatever it was. This was followed by another burst directed at the upstairs window of the house. Confident that he was safe, Dean stopped shooting and looked at what had fallen. A packet of cigarettes. Marlboro Red. Not what he usually smoked but it would do.

Cautiously stooping down, Dean picked up the packet and pocketed it. He would wait to smoke until after he killed this next one.

* * *

Male Student #11, Will Pryer was bleeding. Badly.

The floor around him was soaked in the glistening sheen of liquid crimson, pervading the air with the coppery reek of blood. That, however, wasn't the only smell. Thick and suffocating, the pungent reek of gasoline and methane gas encircled his body, filling his nostrils and mouth.

A slight grin plucked the corner of his bloodstained lips. As a chemistry student, he rather enjoyed the smell of hydrocarbons (hahaha, remembered that even now, huh?).

Taking a step away from the door, he foot slipped slightly and the sudden jolt of movement prompted him to gag and choke from the pain. The uncomfortable sensation that presented itself in his torso had grown. That close range shot from earlier had broken two of his ribs.

A sharp burning was spreading along the base of his abdomen. Despite the (albeit hastily) application of duct tape, blood was still pouring from the recent stab wound. His bloody lips forced a pained smile.

So this was how it was going to end? How much of a cliché was he? Hahahaha. If anything, he regretted only that he really couldn't be of much use to anyone. Despite everything he had read, everything he had learnt, he really couldn't save anyone. His friends were dead, he was practically gone himself, and that damn psycho was coming to finish him off.

Well at least Beau managed to get away. They weren't the best of friends. They were nowhere near on the level of him and Jordan. But... If anyone were to 'win', Will was glad that it was him. He was a pretty decent guy.

Will thought of his sister. His junior by three years. She'd just got her first boyfriend. "Don't end up like me," he thought, in a somewhat comical manner.

"Man slut...hahaha..." he chuckled to himself, finally collapsing against the wall behind himself. Still he kept the door ahead of him in sight.

He didn't want his sister to end up in this game, however, who knows. She just might. If she was, he hoped that she would do the right thing. Try to help her friends. Not like him. He thought of his mum. She must have been in shreds knowing that this was happening to him. Growing up, her treatment of him was nothing short of neurotic protection (in his words).

"If you're watching this..." he grinned, heaving slightly as the throbbing pain in his stomach grew. "Don't cry mum..."

His eyelids were beginning to grow heavy, as if he were fighting off falling asleep. But he couldn't sleep now. Not yet.

He thought of what he had done during 'The Program'. Exiting the building. Finding Jake panicking that he was going to die. Grabbing the gun so that Jake didn't shoot him. The gun going off, accidentally killing Jake. How awful he'd felt that he had actually KILLED someone. Moving around the area, finding the things he needed and staying hidden until that 'exchange student' showed up and tried to kill him. He'd managed to knock the machine gun from his hand before he could shoot (yes, that's right. The murderer of Mr Rajan was not Will, but in fact Brynn). How he had... killed someone in self-defence. About how he had just sat by and done nothing when that psycho was attacking Beau and the girls. Shit, he might even have been able to save them if he had intervened. About how the rest of the time he had just sat and waited!

But most of all... He thought about the gasoline he had flooded the building with. Not simply the floors and walls. But the pipes. Yes he had poured it everywhere. Down every drain, sink and gutter.

He heard the door creak open downstairs.

Footsteps as Dean stepped though the threshold.

A metallic click as Dean loaded a magazine into his Uzi.

He coughed up another large amount of blood and slid slightly down the wall.

More footsteps persisted against the stairs.

A heavy footfall as Dean reached the top of the staircase.

Louder footsteps coming down the hall.

Will's hand was thrust into his pocket, grasping hold of his Zippo lighter.

He withdrew his hand.

He flicked the top of the lighter open. A pleasant metallic click filled the air. The side of Dean's jacket came into view down the hallway as he turned the corner.

Will staggered to his feet and placed his thumb on the flint wheel.

The bright spark illuminated Will's hand as he depressed his thumb. A soft, thumping sound was heard as the wick of the lighter ignited. The bright orange flame reflected in his dark blue eyes in a harsh glare.

The entire room instantly went up. The various chemicals and petrols that had been spread throughout the house immediately caught light, due to the vapours present in the air.

Rolling though the hallways and rooms in a raging fireball, the flames torched everything.

Finally succumbing to his injuries, Will collapsed into the fire. He was dead before he hit the floor.

Reaching the pipes, the fire ignited the flooded system.

The house exploded.

**19 STUDENTS REMAINING**


	44. Chapter 44

Jordan Jarve stood in the middle of a field. The bright sunlight flecked light from his hair. Not long corkscrew curls, but short and sharp spikes, styled with gel.

He wore a grey hoodie underneath a black blazer. His shirt was sky blue and his tie was a mix of sky and navy blue stripes. In his hand was a tennis ball. Tightening his shoulders, Jordan lifted his arm and threw the ball with all his strength. It traced a gentle arc through the air.

Will Pryer caught it and broke into a wide grin. The uniform he wore was similar to Jordan's. He looked younger. Less worn and ragged. His stubble beard was gone and he had bright metal braces fixed to his teeth.

He threw the ball in a diagonal line towards another of their friends. "Heads up, Emlyn!"

Jordan broke the circle of people and walked over towards Will.

"Hey, William," he said, still walking. "Can I talk to you about something?"

"Hm?" Will hummed in response.

They walked over to the side of the group and began to speak.

"Did you see that on the news last week?" Jordan asked, hesitantly.

"About the class of students that disappeared?" Will replied. His face bore an uneasy air of confusion. "It sounds like..."

"Battle Royale?" Jordan said, completing Will's sentence. "I know... Shit's going down."

"I doubt it's anything like that," Will muttered, suddenly reaching out to the side and catching the tennis ball. "Come on, Jamie, you gotta try better than that!" he shouted at the boy who threw the ball.

Jordan broke into a strangely at peace smile. Will was his best friend. The only guy in the world that really got him.

Will was going to be leaving soon. Going to a new school at the start of the academic year in September. He needed to go to a new school to do his A-Levels. A school with better resources. He was going to a female grammar school. You had to take an IQ test to get in.

Jordan on the other hand was going to a community college. Level 3 qualification in Media.

Jordan reached up and patted Will on the shoulder.

An explosion tore through the landscape. Too far away and not strong enough to constitute a shockwave, but the sound was loud enough.

Jordan shook awake and staggered to his feet. Peering through the trees, he could see the tell-tale orange glow of a large fire in the distance.

What on earth had happened? Had a house caught fire? But why the explosion? Jordan knew all the gas lines had been turned off.

He wondered who had been in the house.

* * *

Mr O (Instructor) sat with a dumbfounded and shocked look on his face.

"Sir!" called out a Special Defence Forces officer, sat at a computer across the room. "We've lost cameras 34, 29, 26 and 12 in Zone A2."

"The sound wave from the explosion has also shorted out microphones 16 through 23!" shouted another one.

Mr O suddenly got up from his desk and pointed at one of the officers. "Get the heart rate monitors up! I want to see if Dean is still alive!"

"Dean's heart rate is at 190 bpm," yet another officer said. "He's alive, but he's trying damn hard to."

"Anyone got a camera fix on him?"

"I do, sir!" a fourth officer shouted out, waving Mr O over towards him. "Camera 27! The lens was half shattered by shrapnel, but I definitely got him!" He pointed to his screen. "See. The shock wave must have blown him out of a second floor window."

"Any signs of physical damage?"

"It looks like he's mostly unharmed. A few cuts and scrapes- Oh my god. He's missing his left hand. He's not bleeding though, so the flames probably cauterised it. I'm sure he'll be fine."

"Well thank god for that," Mr O sighed, his yellow teeth peeking through his lips as he smiled.

"Why so interested in Dean, sir?" one of the other officers asked, turning his head away from the computer he was sat at.

Mr O broke into his trademark grin. "Because I have a lot of money on him to win. Ten thousand pounds. It's only natural to get concerned about my investment. Speaking of which," he turned to the third officer who had spoken, "you bet on Will Pryer to win. I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to collect your money."

**19 STUDENTS REMAINING**


	45. Chapter 45

Chapter 44:

Alice Write (Female Student #15) heard the explosion. It rippled through the house she was hidden in and reverberated in her ears.

She was still inside the house in the village located in the top left corner of the map. The house that had exploded was one road over from hers. Running to the window, Alice let out a gasp as she saw the deep red glow of fire and the towering pillar of smoke.

What on earth had just happened? Did that house just explode? Who was inside? Should she go and check to see if anyone was still alive?

Alice didn't know what to do.

Even from this far away, she could feel the searing heat of the flames, pouring through the glass of the window. Alice gasped; a response brought on by the scorching temperature. A film of sweat clung to her face. She stepped away from the window.

What would happen if she went and checked? She didn't like the idea of anyone dying. It wasn't in her nature to stand by when people got hurt. But...what if whoever was still alive decided to kill her?

* * *

Beau (Male Student #12) was running through the streets of the village before the explosion. He wasn't running as fast as he would have liked to. Lianne (Female Student #12) was slower than him. He had promised Will that he would protect her.

He just needed to concentrate on getting her as far away from the house as was physically possible. If what Will was planning was anything like what had been on the paper in the cigarette packet, it would be dangerous to everything in the surrounding area.

"Did you know I can make a bomb?" Will's words, long since past, echoed in Beau's head.

Will was always a fan of fire or anything of the sort. They had once had a bonfire in the middle of the woods with friends. They all sat around drinking, while Will fed the blaze. By the time they got him to stop, the flames were over ten feet high. Beau had found out afterwards that Will poured Methylated Spirit on the fire; a high concentration form of alcohol. 98% volume.

Then there was the time that he had set Beau on fire. That's right, he had set him on fire. They were at a house party and they had both had far too much to drink. Will was playing with his Zippo and someone had spilt whiskey on the back of Beau's shirt.

But by far the scariest thing about Will's obsession was his knowledge in explosives. All he would need was some fertiliser (for the ammonia) and some gasoline and he could make a bomb.

Beau hoped there wasn't a bomb in the house.

That's when the explosion hit. Ripping through the street, the shockwave slammed into Beau and Lianne's backs, forcing them into a stumble. The entire village was illuminated in a bright orange and red glow.

The explosion was not the result of a bomb. The gasoline; clogging the pipes and the guttering had caused the network of pipes around the house to expand, causing an explosion.

But Beau didn't know this. No, he assumed a bomb; as did most of the other players in the designated area.

* * *

Tom Staring (Male Student #15) sat against a tree, watching the house burn in the distance. Even from this far away, he could see the flames spreading to the other neighbouring houses. The deep orange glow filled his pupils in a flickering flare.

Tom swept his hand through his light blonde quiff and broke into a pained sigh.

The Program was taking it's toll. Tom guessed that they were down to at least seventeen students now, what with all the gunfire he'd been hearing; not to mention that explosion just now (in actuality, his estimate wasn't far off the actual figure of nineteen). Over half of his classmates were dead, and yet he felt nothing but numb.

Save of course the dread at losing the numbness.

After he had escaped the transfer student earlier, he had waited and doubled back after about an hour. That was when he found Odd. She'd been left to die in the shack, her body peppered with bullets.

It took every ounce of his strength not to cry when he found her. It was the first time he'd seen someone he was actually close to dead.

After much hesitation, he'd managed to close her eyes. Tom had even managed to find the camera inside the shack and peer into the lens to whisper his condolences to her parents, should they be watching.

Following that, he'd followed a trail of blood deeper into the woods; soon coming across the corpses of Anna and a girl that he didn't know. He correctly assumed her to be a transfer student.

Truth be told, Tom had difficulty identifying them. Both of their heads had been cut off just beneath where their collars would have been. He had to fight the urge to be sick. Needless to say, he hadn't closed their eyes.

So now he sat, watching the glow of fire on the horizon; listening to the sound of his watch ticking away. In a sense it was strangely beautiful, in spite of the horror surrounding him.

**19 STUDENTS REMAINING**


	46. Chapter 46

Chapter 45:

Female Student #19 and Transfer Student, Laura Dennie, sat weaving her fingers through the dry leaves that lay scattered on the floor. Her eyes occasionally flitted over towards Olivia Dike (Female Student #7). Even in the dark, Olivia noticed.

Ever since joining up with her new companion, Olivia had felt the girl's eyes on her every few seconds. It was understandable that she didn't trust Olivia, given the circumstances, however she would have liked at least a fleck of it, given that Laura had practically begged Olivia to stay with her.

"So… What do you do?" Olivia asked, attempting to break the tension between the two with conversation.

"What do you mean?" Laura asked, looking confused.

"Like… School, work. That kind of thing."

"Oh… I um… I'm in sixth form."

"What do you study?"

"Health and social care, and biology with my…" She started crying, tears pouring down her face. She clasped her hand over her mouth.

Olivia leant over and held out her hand in an attempt to comfort the girl. Laura recoiled from her.

"With my boyfriend," Laura sobbed. "He… He's probably watching me right now… Oh god… He's seeing me like this."

"It's okay, honey," Olivia said, reassuringly. "I'm here. He'll be thankful of that. That I'm here to help." (Oh god, what was she doing? Olivia had no idea how to deal with a situation like this.)

"What's to stop you killing me?" Laura cried.

"Look at me," Olivia said softly.

Laura continued to cry, her head buried in her knees; hugged to her chest.

"Look at me," Olivia said, a little more firmly. Laura lifted her head and looked at the other girl; still crying. Olivia's face was kind. "I'm not going to kill you; I promise. I can't say the same for anyone else out there; but I promise that I will never hurt you. I'll be here to keep you safe, and you're going to do the same for me." She tilted her head to the side and smiled warmly through the dark. "Okay?"

Laura burst into even more tears and lunged at Olivia, wrapping her arms around her and pulling her into a hug so tight, she thought she would never let go. Olivia felt the other girl's sobs wracking through their bodies.

"Do you… Do you have a boyfriend?" Laura whispered, through the tears.

"Yeah… Something like that…" Olivia said, smiling slightly as she thought about her girlfriend. She only just realised how much she missed her.

In the distance, the house exploded.

* * *

Tom "Crom" Rawlings (Male Student #20, and Transfer Student) was on his fourth round with Steph (Female Student #13) when the explosion ripped through the air. He was laying on top of her; her legs parted either side and held in place with a firm grip under her knees. Her face was bright red and the make up around her eyes was so smudged that when closed they looked black. She had long since given up screaming around the gag.

Crom looked away from the girl to watch the pillar of fire in the distance, over the tops of the houses.

Steph couldn't believe this was happening to her. She felt completely violated. No, more like dead. She felt like her life was over. Steph was well known for being loose, in her life outside the Program, however never before had she been raped. It was terrifying. Physically terrifying; so much so that she felt as if her life was over. That she was dead.

She wanted to just give up and end it all. She wanted Crom to kill her; to kill her and put her out of her misery.

No!

Fuck that! No! She wasn't going to give up like that. She had to survive; she needed to survive. If she survived, Steph could make her life better outside. She could live exactly how she wanted, and never have to experience anything like this ever again.

Crom was still looking away from her at the explosion.

Now! Now was her chance! But her hands were bound; he had hold of her legs. How else could she-?

Steph arched her head up and slammed her forehead into Crom's face, breaking his nose with one strike. The second strike crushed it into his face; prompting him to release her legs and fall back, screaming and clutching his bloodied face.

_What next? Think. Hurry._

Her hands were tied. Legs. That's right.

She kicked out, planting her foot squarely between his legs. Crom doubled over from pain, moving the focus of his hands. The second kick his him in the face. And the third. Crom's eye socked was cracked by the force and two of his teeth were chipped.

"You bitch!" he cried out, lunging forwards.

Steph kicked him in the face again. He was flung off of her by the force. Blood flowed from his nose and pooled in the grass; black beneath the night sky. She scrambled to her feet; hands still tied behind her back.

She could run now. But… he could chase her. And he had her weapons.

Steph turned back around and began to repeatedly kick him in the face. Over and over and over. His bones cracked and splintered until his forehead caved in. Crom lay there dead.

Turning her back to him, she knelt down and dug her fingers into Crom's splintered face. Pulling out a jagged length of bone, she began to cut the bonds around her wrists.

**18 STUDENTS REMAINING**

**[So, who do you guys think will win? Any takers?]**


	47. Chapter 47

Chapter 46:

Alice Write (Female Student #15) tugged at the boy's blazer. Her feet dug into the grass as she leant back and desperately tried to drag him away from the blazing house.

She couldn't just stand by and let someone die. Not when she was able to do something about it. Alice could save this boy's life and that was enough of a reason to get this close to the burning building.

Pulling him into the middle of the road, Alice looked down at the boy. His hair and clothes were singed and bloodstained.

He was missing his left hand.

Dean Koontz (Male Student #19 and Transfer Student) was muttering something under his breath over and over. It sounded like…

"Car… Car…"

Alice looked around, her multi-tonal side fringe dancing around her face. There was a Honda Civic with its door open. That must be what he was talking about. But why? What was in the car? Alice left him for a second to dash to the car.

Inside she found the boy's duffel bag. This must have been what he wanted. Hurriedly scooping it up, she ran back to him and threw it down on the floor next to him.

Rolling onto his side, the boy reached out with his still-working right hand and unzipped the bag. Reaching inside, he suddenly pulled out a gun and dug a bloody trench through Alice's head.

Rifling through the bag, Dean withdrew a roll of bandages that he'd scavenged from the pharmacy in the other village early in the game. Wrapping it around his charred and cauterised stump, he bound it into a tight knot before grasping a bottle of Famous Grouse Whiskey he had, again, scavenged and soaking the bandage to clean the wound.

He'd been lucky that the heat from the explosion had cauterised his wound. All he needed to do was make sure it stayed clean and he'd be able to avoid fatal infection.

Dean had dropped his Uzi when he broke through the window so it should be around the area somewhere. If he found that he'd be able to continue on his streak and break out the win.

He looked down at his missing hand. Pulling one of the cigarettes Will Pryer had thrown from the window at him, he lit it on a blazing piece of rubble and dragged on it. Even with his handicap he would still be able to win.

Staggering to his feet, Dean hooked his duffel bag around his neck and began to walk, gun in hand, looking for his discarded Uzi. Around him, the village burned.

* * *

Female Student #16, Robyn Seere, awoke to the sound of her collar emitting a harsh blaze of static. While the explosion had gone unnoticed, due to the walls of the house and the significant distance between her and the blast, the sound of the collar came loud and clear. The static charged inside her ears, shocking Robyn awake so suddenly that the cat on her lap nearly fell off.

_"FZZT! Although it is a shame to wake you up so late, it's time for the midnight roll call! I don't have much to say but, at least it was better than last time; though one of the casualties was a particular shock for me._

_ "So pipe up your ears, it's time for the dead. The first of the dead is Male Student #7, Jermaine Ossen. A relatively unknown contender, so no real loss there. Alas, our next departure is the real disappointment in this show. That's right, our favourite to win has left our contest: Male Student #11, Will Pryer. I know, I know, a tragedy. Though as a great man once said, all good things must come to an end; preferably in a humungous explosion. For those of you who have apparently been living under a rock, take a gander towards the north west of the playing area."_

Robyn ran towards the window and looked out. Her eyes were filled with black pillar of smoke, illuminated through the night by the deep glow of fire. "Holy shit, Will… What did you do?" she whispered to herself.

_"There you shall find his latest handywork. All I can say is I'm glad that he went out with a bang. Hahaha._

_ "Well, moving on from that, we have our very own resident rapist, Mr Tom Rawlings, Male Student #20. While he was a personal favourite, for sheer entertainment value, I can imagine a ratings spike when it comes to his death; particularly from female viewers. Now to round things off, we have Female Student #15, clocking in her time at five minutes prior to my announcement; just making the cut and as proof that no good deed goes unpunished._

_ "Now make sure you pin back your ears because it's time for the Dead Zones! Kicking things off in one hour is zone C-8! All residents of C-8 vacate the area by 1am. Next, is zone I-9 and that's at 2am; I-9 at 2! And finally, at 4am is zone I-2. That's I-2 and it's at 4am._

_ "You're over halfway there little warriors! Sixteen left to die and the lucky winner gets the cash prize and a ticket home! Get busy killing, or get busy dying. FZZT!"_

Robyn pulled a disgusted face as she checked her map. Her mind raced as she thought about Will. She didn't know what Mr O had meant by 'favourite to win', but he was her friend. A pretty close friend as well. The fact that he was dead had hit her hard. Especially considering the towering pillar of fire and smoke that she now used to check of the Dead Zones.

"Oh god…" she whispered. Zone C-8, the first one to become active, was the zone which she now occupied. Hurriedly crossing off the other zones, she snatched up her duffle bag and her SIG-Sauer P230 and made for the door.

Robyn suddenly stopped. Looking back at the cat, curled up on the sofa, she pulled a sympathetic face. Running back to the kitchen where she had encountered Anna several hours ago, before she had died, Robyn opened the last six cans of cat food in the cupboard and set them out on the side; ready for the cat.  
"At least one of us is going to survive now, eh kitty…" she whispered, breaking into a soft and sad smile.  
Robyn ran from the house.

**17 STUDENTS REMAINING**


End file.
